Whether he loved her or not didn't change how she felt about him. She loved him independent and regardless of whether he loved her.
- Sarah Beth Durst, Ice
Rose builds a wall of ice around her heart.
It is more mental than magical (because even if her magic could affect her like that, she is not suicidal or stupid enough to attempt it), but it is strong all the same. When her thoughts, her secrets, her very being is of ice, then it does not take much effort to become frozen.
Or, it should not. The pain is very persistent.
The Doctor tries to show her that he is sorry (does he even know why?), though he does not say it. He tries to take her to resort planets, and peaceful planets, with beaches and bright, warm colors, and even the dogs with no noses that they never managed to see. They run for their lives, too, and as Rose grows cold, Mickey grows stronger.
The Doctor should be proud of the boy (Rose is, when she notices, and she is sorry that he is caught up in their tension, because he deserves so much better), and he is. But Mickey also interferes with their currently precarious relationship, and the Doctor sometimes wishes that he had never come aboard. Things with Rose are complicated enough already, without her ex-boyfriend there to distract her, and take up her attention, and act as though he knew her better than the Doctor. He had wanted a buffer, and regrets it now that he has one.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, if Rose would only stop avoiding him, would take his hand again. His hearts ache, his throat clenches, and his hand feels empty without hers. She no longer reaches for him, and when he tries, she jerks her hand away, and his hope with it (because she always pauses, relaxes, before flinching away, as if she has forgotten that she does not wish to hold his hand, and it raises his hopes before crushing them).
Rose does not do this to hurt him, although there is a small, shameful part of her that is satisfied when it happens. That thinks he deserves to hurt because he hurt her. The greater part of her is horrified by this thought; he has endured unimaginable pain and loss in his long life, and she wants him to find happiness. Even if it is not with her. She has no claim on the Doctor, not like that. She has no right to act as though he is hers, no right to act like a jilted lover or jealous girlfriend, because they aren't like that. She knows this, she has told others this, and yet at the first sign of his interest in another… Well, this is all on her, and she shouldn't punish the Doctor for it. She just needs time, that's all.
She wishes she could say that this distance she enforces by not taking his hand will be good for them. It will give her heart rest, allow her to once again recognize the line that she should not cross, and keep her from making the Doctor feel awkward or uncomfortable. But that is merely a side effect of sorts, not the reason.
She cannot hold his hand because when she least expects it, her touch still brings a light frost. Rose has not been so out of control since she was a child. She does not remember being this out of control, even as a child. He would never be able to overlook it, and her secret would be exposed to him, might even hurt him
The thought of him discovering her abilities now makes her cringe. The feelings of unworthiness linger, because next to a woman like Reinette, how could she ever compare? Rose tries to console herself that she is not so far below the woman, that she too is descended from royalty, but that has always been difficult to believe. That she descends from the queen of what is essentially an imaginary country, when she grew up on an Estate with only her mother to raise her, and always struggling to pay the bills besides. Rose had known less than nothing about any courtly etiquette (until she began travelling with the Doctor) and had hardly cared because it hadn't mattered. It shouldn't matter now, but the part of her that Jimmy nurtured cannot help but pick at anything that might be wrong with her. That part cannot leave it alone.
Reinette, the uncrowned queen of France, and she, just another chav off the Estates, and a freak besides.
"Stop it," Rose whispers to herself, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched into fists as she attempts to summon her bravado. The TARDIS hums in encouragement and sympathy. She tries to summon up memories of her first Doctor (who never would have abandoned her), of the times her actions had saved a life, or helped save a world. She focuses on the many friends she has made, the words of kindness, her mum's love, and Mickey's constant, steady presence.
The TARDIS floods her mind with warmth, and for a time Rose feels more herself – the self she had become pre-Revolutionary France.
But it is not until the ice planet, Eorsin, that things begin to return to normal.
Rose claws her way to wakefulness, groaning at the annoying buzzing sound. She is not, and never has been, a morning person, and all she wants is to succumb to the wave of exhaustion that threatens to swamp her. But something other than the noise (and now that she thinks about it, it sounds more like a howl than a buzz) has her forcing her eyes open instead of falling back to sleep.
She squints and blinks rapidly, but dark spots continue to hover at the edges of her vision, and all she can make out is a fluffy, dizzying blur of white. Something about this… There's something… She needs a nap, so that she can think clearly. What was she doing before she went to bed?
Rose frowns, flinching as she feels small, soft bits of something lightly hit her face. She has been feeling that for a while, she realizes. Is she moving? Beyond the spinning of the world, her body is…is…
Shaking.
Is this a seizure? She has never had one before and panics for a moment, the surge of adrenaline slicing through the aftereffects of the drugs she had been dosed with. Her limbs are weak and wobbly, and she almost pitches right over as soon as she shoots into a sitting position. She holds out her arms and stares blankly for a long moment, before slumping in relief. It isn't a seizure, she is just shivering from the cold. It is not an experience she is accustomed to.
Her eyesight and mind clearer, she looks around. Snow and ice as far as she can see, which isn't far as she appears to be in the middle of a blizzard. The howling of the wind is what had roused her. And her without even a jacket, she notes, looking down at herself. No wonder she is shivering; not even she can be unaffected in these temperatures, and she does not think she has ever been so thankful for her magic.
"Right," she whispers to herself, wincing as she becomes aware of a headache. The gale snatches her voice away. "What happened?"
Ice planet. The Doctor, Mickey, and herself had ended up in a surprisingly populated metropolis enclosed within a sort of bubble to protect it from the climate. She and Mickey had made a trip back into the wardrobe room for special snow jackets, trousers, and boots designed to conserve maximum body heat with minimal waste of energy. Or something. The Doctor had lectured at great length and many tangents, with brief mention of how the weather outside the enclosed city would kill a human within 10 minutes, and that guess was optimistic. The natives themselves – pale blue with white patterns, bipedal, and stolidly built, with short dense fur all over their bodies – need advanced preparations and planning if they wish to survive the outside.
Of course the group of travelers arrive in a time of potential political upheaval. Dissenters and revolutionaries were attempting to cause a coup. Rumors of the planned assassination of the rightful ruler and his council had reached the Doctor fairly quickly, and in this case (after a bit of digging to support the Time Lord's original thoughts) he and his companions were supporting the governing body. They were more benevolent than tyrannical, and it would be another century before things were supposed to take a turn for the worse.
Naturally, the Doctor had offered their services to discover the plot and round up the mercenaries. And, naturally, things had gone wrong.
Rose does not remember anything after entering her assigned room for the night. Obviously, the mercenaries had drugged her and dumped her out here, assured of her near instant death. She is meant to be a warning, but really, they have sealed their fates. Mickey must be beside himself with fear and worry, but the Doctor will hunt them down with a single-minded determination backed by fury. He is a no second chances sort of man.
Rose scowls, and curses under her breath in irritation as she struggles to her feet. She knows that later, with more time for the situation to sink, she will be enraged with the mercenaries. Right now she is just too relieved that they have chosen perhaps the least effective way of killing her, ever.
She is so thankful that they did not do this to Mickey (if they had, he would be here, too, right? It would take too much work to separate the two of them, so he is safe for now).
Her shivering is becoming distracting now that she is more aware, but she has an idea. The storm is too thick for anyone to spy on her in the unlikely event that anyone would be watching this area of tundra. So she bends over a little, coaxing her magic up from her feet, straightening as it creeps to her torso, and then flourishes her arms in the air above her head. Already she feels warmer, and she looks down to take in what her powers have wrought.
Rose's clothes are a shimmering, icy blue now, a color she has come to think of as her own despite displaying to the world a penchant for pink. Her somewhat baggy jeans and long-sleeved shirt look more like silk now, and fit tighter to her skin. Her sleeves extend further, stopping about halfway down her palm, each with a hole for her thumb. A shawl, sheer and studded with what look like tiny snowflakes, is draped across her shoulders.
Long ago she had discovered that her powers are limited when it comes to natural ice and snow. That is, she can manipulate it to a certain extent, but never as completely as the winter she creates herself. For example, no matter how she tries, she will never be able to thaw with her magic any ice that she has not created.
Else she would be tempted to halt this blizzard in its tracks and melt herself a way back to the city.
Rose sighs and pushes away useless thoughts. With clothing taken care of, she must turn to shelter, and then food. Water will be no problem.
Her first thought is to create a full-scale palace, or at least a tower so that she can see far enough that she might spot the city. Even if she cannot find it, any rescue party would be able to see the structure and head straight for her.
Unfortunately, so would the mercenaries, and they would know where they had left her. Rose is unlikely to be so lucky if they catch her a second time. Chances are they would kill her before the Doctor could rescue her. In any case, there is no plausible explanation for an ice structure of that size appearing overnight.
An igloo it is, and here is as good a place as any.
She stomps a foot, sinking the base into the snow bank, and arches an arm through the air to guide the dome of ice. Finally, she gestures with a flick of her wrist, and the blizzard concentrates its efforts on her igloo. In no time, it is yet another indistinguishable lump in the landscape, and Rose has enough energy to pack the snow tight upon the icy frame.
Then she staggers inside the tiny room and curls up to sleep off the drug's aftereffects on a scattered layer of snow. A steady puff of air, and the shawl is large enough to use as a blanket.
When she wakes, the storm has blown itself out, and she scrambles outside hoping for some sort of direction. Rose squints at the horizon, turns in a circle, and has no idea where to even begin. And the mercenaries likely had at least one ally among the gatekeepers, so chances are she'll be caught again before she gets past the dome, much less reaches Mickey and the Doctor. It is rather difficult to sneak and hide among a completely different species.
So, it might be better to stay put. The Doctor could find her life signs if he scans the area (assuming it occurs to him). He shouldn't have too large an area to scan; she doubts that she is more than a few hours from the city by sled, or whatever they call their transport. If she picks a direction and walks, chances are she will be heading away from the city, and it would take longer for the Doctor to find her. As she has no food, she prefers to be rescued as soon as possible.
She considers creating a rail of ice to mark her trail so that she could explore and still return to her igloo. But what if someone happens upon it? It could be either good or bad, but either way there is no good explanation for the structure. And anyway, should anyone see her wandering in the open air instead of huddling in an enclosed space for warmth, they would certainly know that her survival is impossible.
What she needs is someone or something that can explore for her, and the thought of creating and animating an ice carving or snowman strikes her out of nowhere. But it would be useless without independence or a sort of sentience, and Rose does not know if that is possible for her to do. There are vague references in her family book, but no details, nothing definitive that says yes, this is possible, or no, you cannot. She had animated her tiny ice sculptures as a child, but they had been more like windup toys than independent creatures.
But she is more powerful now. There is nothing to lose by trying.
Rose closes her eyes in concentration and holds out a hand, twirling it slowly. Her brow furrows, and she pictures the creature that comes immediately to mind. It is a shape that feels most natural, and would move well in this climate. Her eyes open, and she takes in the pure, white snow of its fur, the sharp teeth and claws belying the solid ice beneath.
A wolf stands before her.
Either she is far more familiar with wolf anatomy than she realizes, or something else had left an imprint. Because its proportions, its joints and lines are all clean and correct as far as she can tell. But she cannot think about that now.
"Do you…understand me?" Rose asks hesitantly. Perhaps she should have tried for a shape that could speak, but… No. This is right. She can feel the rightness, although she does not know why.
Her (she does not know how she knows, but it is a female) ears prick up, and her tail wags slowly.
"I'll call you Loupa," Rose decides, and the wolf's tail wags harder. "Loupa, I need you to scout around my camp, and see if you can find the city. Come back by dark, if you can, though. We've got a few days before things get dire, and you can try a different direction each day, I guess." Rose does not want to be by herself, alone in the dark wilderness of an alien planet. The company would be welcome, and this way she can be certain that her friend has not been lost or destroyed.
Loupa gives a little yip of acknowledgement (startling Rose, who had not been sure an ice creation could make a sound) and darts off.
She spends the rest of her day near her little igloo feeling restless and bored. There is no sign of anyone, and she wonders when the Doctor noticed she was missing (so much for five and a half hours).
She was not entirely sure she would see Loupa by nightfall, whatever she may have said, so she is pleasantly surprised with the wolf's reappearance. Her companion curls up by the entrance to her hideaway, and Rose feels better for the protective company.
The next day is just as boring. The hours drag on slowly, and Rose's thoughts about the Doctor's competence become (a bit unfairly) uncharitable. The hunger makes things worse, and handfuls of snow do little to abate it.
Loupa rejoins her as darkness falls, and Rose talks to her about nothing until she falls asleep.
She snaps awake when the world ends. Or, it seems like it does. Howls and snarls are ringing in her ears, ice cracking not too far from where she lays. It is pitch black, and the snow presses in on her, suffocating her. She claws at it wildly, with no idea which way is up. It could be seconds or minutes before she breaks free, gasping in the clean, cold air.
Her eyes take a minute to adjust to the dim moonlight, and for a long moment all she can see is a whirl of pale violence only a few meters from where she lays. She squints as she staggers upright, and makes out Loupa's smaller shape go tumbling away, yelping. The larger creature turns to her and growls, a sound that raises the hair on her arms. Clumsy with terror, Rose stumbles backwards and nearly falls.
Before it can take more than a couple of steps, Loupa returns in a blur of speed, launching herself at its throat. The ruff around its neck is too thick for her to tear at it properly, but she hangs on, stubbornly clawing away at its torso with her hind legs. Rose's eyes have properly adjusted, and she can make out that the enormous creature resembles a slender polar bear; faster, more agile, and just as strong, with wide feet that help it move atop the snow, and a long tail like a whip.
The predator roars in anger and swats at Loupa, who lets go and weaves around it and out of reach before it can hit her. She is not quite fast enough, however, and the tail knocks her head over feet, one of its hind paws clipping her tail. She yelps as it shatters, and when she stands Rose can tell that her sense of balance is off.
She tries, though, so hard when the bear-creature comes at Rose with amazing speed. Her heart aches at her new companion's determination to protect her, wobbling as she runs for the enemy. But the creature is nearly upon her, and Rose can no longer spare a thought for anything but herself. She cannot outrun it, and so she braces herself and thrusts forward with her hands. It crashes into thick cylinders of ice, and roars in pain as the ice shatters, slowing it down momentarily. It is enough for Loupa to latch onto the base of its tail-whip, ignoring its sting as she bites down until it comes away in her mouth.
The beast screams, and strikes the wolf hard enough that Rose fears that her head is shattered. And then it turns and pounces at Rose, who shrieks and throws her hands up in futile protection. Spikes of ice leap from the snow, deadly sharp at the tip, and much thicker at the base than the cylinders had been. It makes a terrible noise, impaled in so many places, and pools of blood stain the snow as it thrashes in its death throes.
Rose feels a little sick, almost hypnotized by the sight until a nudging at her hand jolts her into awareness. She collapses to her knees and holds Loupa's head gently between her hands. "Are you alright?" she asks shakily, examining her in earnest. A flicker of gold catches her attention, so incongruous against the pale blue and white colors that dominate the landscape. She frowns and looks closer. Pale gold flickers again in Loupa's eyes, and Rose sucks in a breath. Because it is so dark, because she looks so closely, she can see. Traces of the time vortex swirl within Loupa's eyes, and how Rose can even recognize it is a mystery, but there is an echo of an echo of a song in the back of her head, and there is something she has forgotten…
Her wolf friend nudges her, and she shakes her head. She'll think about it later. Right now, they need to get away before the blood drew other predators and scavengers.
Rose fixes Loupa's injuries, and then regards the dead alien-bear uncertainly. She is hungry, and it might be a good source of food. But it might also poison her. The Doctor isn't around to tell her which alien foods are deadly to humans, and even if she did decide to chance it, how would she cook it? There is no wood anywhere nearby, and she has nothing on her to start a fire with. Sometimes she thinks the magic of another element would be far more useful. Fire, for example (but then she pictures losing control, sees the Powell Estates as a towering inferno, and is glad her ability is rather more harmless).
As she follows Loupa in a direction that has not yet been explored, Rose wonders if there are other elemental magics in the universe from which hers descends. Are there people with fire in their soul, or earth in their bones? But it is only idle speculation, and hardly important or relevant.
She and Loupa walk for a few hours before Rose sets up another hidden igloo. She curls up and sleeps the rest of the night, and wakes up alone, long past sunrise and bracing herself for another day of boredom.
It is near evening, at least as far as Rose can tell, when the Doctor finds her. Two of the natives are accompanying him (Mickey scours the city grudgingly, since he will not survive long outside of it), and the moment the sled nears her he stumbles from it.
"Rose." His voice is strangled, and he embraces her. His arms are like iron bars as he holds her to him. "Rose."
She hugs him back; he is obviously shaken, and he seems about to fly apart at the seams.
"You're alright," he is saying, over and over again. "You're alright, you're safe, you're safe."
Rose realizes just how terrified he has been. She knows him so well, still. It is a bone-deep sort of fear, and when she makes to lean back, he tightens his hold on her almost to the point of pain, and muffles a cry of anguish. She softens to him, relaxes against his body and strokes the base of his neck soothingly. "I'm here," she murmurs. "I'm here. Not gonna leave you."
Perhaps it is wrong, but his sheer terror at the thought of her death goes a long way toward soothing her broken heart. The Doctor may not love her, but he cares deeply for her. They are still the best of friends. That is enough. That will have to be enough.
She feels more like herself than she has in quite a while.
At last he releases her, though he clings to her hand as he helps her into the spare snow jacket, trousers, and blanket he brought for her. He examines her closely, eyebrows drawn together and free hand tugging on an ear. Now that he has calmed down, he notices all the little things that do not add up. Namely, that she seems only a little chilled in weather that should have killed her.
"Rose, how are you still alive? Not to say that I'm not pleased or am somehow disappointed at the fact, not at all! In fact, I am the very opposite of disappointed, and of course, Mickey will be too! Mr. Mick-Mickety-Mickey couldn't come, so he's been scouring the city looking for you or your captors. Welll, I say scouring, more like – "
He cuts himself off when he notices Rose's distraction, and turns to follow her gaze. "Oohh, what is that?" the Doctor breathes when he sees Loupa. He tugs Rose along as he makes his way to the ice wolf, who watches the proceedings warily. "You're beautiful," he says as he takes his spectacles from his pocket. "But not native to this planet. Closely resembling the canis lupus, but the make-up of your fur is…" He muttered to himself in a broken string of techno babble, and reached out as if to take a sample of Loupa for study.
Rose jerked him back, and snapped a bit shrilly, "She is not a science experiment, Doctor. She protected me and saved my life. Leave her alone." She does not mean to sound so harsh, but she is sensitive about being turned into a lab rat herself. Loupa, in particular, is a bit of a sore spot in this regard. Also, she does not want him looking close enough to see the vortex in Loupa's eyes. There is no explanation for that.
The Doctor flinches, unable to hide the pang of hurt at her accusation. "I didn't mean it that way," he says quietly.
Rose sighs. "I know. I'm sorry. 'M just hungry and irritable right now, is all."
His eyes widen. "Oh, of course. We brought food and hot tea – well, a tea-like drink, anyway – and we need to get you warmed up and checked out." He tugs her back toward the sled, but she stops him.
"Can I have a minute to say goodbye to Loupa?" she asks.
"Loupa?"
Rose flushes. "It's what I named her. It didn't feel right just calling her 'wolf' or something. And she did save my life."
"Of course," he says with a smile. "You'll have to tell me about it."
"I will," she agrees. A highly-edited version of events, anyway.
The Doctor watches anxiously as she walks with Loupa down a gentle slope until they're just out of sight. But he does not follow her, and Rose is grateful.
For a long moment the two, girl and wolf, just watch each other. It doesn't feel right to Rose, to make her friend disappear. It is like killing her, and Rose doesn't think she can do that. But she cannot leave her behind on this planet either. Loupa does not belong here, and certainly not if she contains some tiny part of the time vortex.
"Thank you," Rose says.
Loupa pads close, and nudges her hand with her nose. She is telling Rose to do what she must. Saying in her own way that it is alright.
"Bye." For a moment, a flurry of tiny snowflakes hold the shape of a wolf, before dissolving into the air. But, perhaps because she is more aware of it now, perhaps because a part of her had been missing it, Rose can feel that pale tendril of the time vortex return to her. There are none of Loupa's memories, but there are impressions, echoing feelings of the past few days.
She bites her lip in thought as she returns to the Doctor's side, his relief upon seeing her almost palpable. When they return to the TARDIS, she will have to do a thorough study of her medical information and DNA. She'll need the TARDIS' help to keep it secret and interpret her findings.
Before then, she fills in the Doctor on (some) of what had happened to her, reunites with Mickey, and helps to thwart the plot to overthrow the current government.
But the TARDIS, although she helps Rose through working the medical equipment and keeping it secret from the others on board, is remarkably silent on what her results mean. There are changes, Rose can infer that much, but the TARDIS obscures any hint of what they are. She leaves it alone finally, frustrated, but she trusts the ship. She will find out what is going on eventually.
Things between the Doctor and Rose return to the way they used to be. By the time they fall into the parallel world, they have regained their camaraderie. Which is good, because the events in that world leave Rose feeling raw.
Here is proof, at least, that it is possible that her ancestors were from another universe. She tries so hard to see if the same is true here (but what would it accomplish, really? it is unlikely he could tell her anything she has not already discovered), doing little things (like frosting champagne glasses) that could be dismissed unless her family's secret existed here.
The alternate Pete does not notice. Rose watches closely, but little things, little hints and family stories elicit no reaction, other than confusion. Rose's family secret does not exist here. Rose does not exist here. What does that mean?
What does it matter? Alternate Jackie has been cyberized, Rickey is dead, Pete wants nothing to do with here, and Mickey, who has always been there for her, is staying behind. Forever (and if alternate universes are closed, if it is impossible to travel between them, then how had Rose's ancestors arrived in the original universe?).
The Doctor takes her to see her mother, and it is a relief to see her alive and well, to have someone who watched Mickey grow up grieve with her.
Rose mourns, and she lives, and over time she recovers. She and the Doctor travel together as always, righting wrongs and seeing the wonders and terrors of the universe.
And then the army of ghosts.
It takes Rose a stupidly long time after they land in Canary Wharf to realize why the name Torchwood sets off warning bells in her mind. But the talk of charters and alien technology, the ruthlessness of the employees and the British Empire finally has her making the connection (alien, Institute, the werewolf, Torchwood Manor, Queen Victoria). This is the Institute that captured and tortured her ancestor. Torchwood is the name her father warned her about on the day he died.
The terror almost chokes her. It is unlikely that they remember her ancestor or her abilities after such a long time, but she has spent her entire life afraid of this institution. And then there are Daleks and Cybermen, and Mickey is back, and her father, and fear for her mother in this mess somewhere. Everything is chaos and the entire world a battleground.
Her heart breaks when she tries to tell her mother to go with Pete, but all she wants is for her mother to be happy. She shouldn't spend the rest of her life waiting for Rose, and now she has a chance at a wonderful life with an alternate version of the man she fell in love with.
When the Doctor tricks her into leaving, the fury is almost overwhelming. She will not be sent away, like a child or an inferior. They are best mates, damn it, and she loves him, but she will not tolerate an unequal partnership. When this is over, she will have a long talk with him, and get the TARDIS on her side to help pin him down.
Until the lever announces that it is "offline", Rose never doubts that they will both survive this.
But her life is nothing compared to the safety of the world. She catches the look of horror on the Doctor's face, and it takes all of her strength to hold on as the Void tries to suck her in. But she isn't strong enough, and her grip slipped early on so that she cannot regain it. Her fingers are in agony. She knows she is slipping, and still there are so many Cybermen and Daleks streaming by.
The Doctor is shouting, voice cracking with desperation, and that is what spurs her into action. Better to out herself to whatever Torchwood cameras are left in this room, than to fall into the Void. The chance of capture and torture is preferable to the certainty of death. All she must do is freeze her hands to the lever.
But every time she reaches inside herself for her magic, attempting to tease out a tendril of ice, her subconscious clamps down on it and she comes up with nothing. The more frightened she becomes, the less likely she is to use her abilities, and her three greatest fears (Torchwood, Cybermen, Daleks) are present all at once. Too much control, and yet no control at all. She can freeze nothing.
Rose looks at the Doctor one last time, sees the terror in his eyes as he begs her to hold on. He never begs, and yet he does so now. Eyes locked on his, her hands slip from the lever even as she tries one last time.
Her arms flail for something, anything, and the barest edge of her fingers touches cool metal, ice fusing her to the lip of the track that guides the lever. She screams, the pull on her body jerking her wrist at an awkward, painful angle, but she hangs on. The Doctor watches her, still shouting, relief and fear warring with one another. She brings her other hand to the metal edge and freezes it there as well. For several long moments she is safe, and laughs in giddy disbelief.
And then the metal jerks, and she is pulled a few centimeters closer to the Void. Her stomach lodges in her throat, as the metal ledge begins to peel away, unable to handle the force she is putting on it. She could send her ice into the entire machine for better purchase, but she does not dare. What if it destroys the machine? One life for the planet. That's not too much to ask, she supposes.
If she gets out of this, she promises herself that she will study mechanical engineering. So far she has gotten by on brute force and luck, but knowledge and finesse might have saved her here, had she known.
Rose looks over at the Doctor once more as metal shrieks and twists. I'm sorry, her eyes say, and it hurts her to see him in such agony.
And then she lets go.
The Doctor screams as she falls into the Void, reaching futilely for her hand. He contemplates simply letting go. Following her. A lifetime without her stretches before him, time slows, and he sees the timeline in which she dies here. The regret will almost kill him. The agony of lifetimes of what-ifs. He thought it would hurt less if he kept his distance from Rose, if he never crossed that one line. He thought he was protecting himself.
He wasn't. This is worse, many times worse.
He almost doesn't believe it when he sees the Void ripple. "Please," the Doctor whispers. "Oh, please, just this once, anything, please."
The Void closes.
Rose slams into the wall and crumples to the floor.
"Rose," the Doctor almost sobs, scrambling to where she lies. "Rose, Rose, Rose." It is all that he is capable of saying.
She is so still that for a moment he is afraid… But then she groans and stirs, and he helps her to sit upright. He barely pays attention to her pained expression, the stiff way in which she held her body. All that matters is that she is alive, and here, with him. In spite of everything, she chose him. In spite of everything, she lives.
He kneels, one knee on the outside of her thigh, the other between her legs, and hugs her tightly, face buried in the crook of her shoulder. He can feel himself shaking, and he is still chanting her name, and he doesn't care. Rose is here.
When at last he manages to lean back a little, he cups her face and says reverently, "Rose Tyler." And then he kisses her.
He plunders her mouth, tongue slipping between her lips to explore every dip and crevice. Pride surges through him when she whimpers, and her uninjured hand rakes through his hair. She tastes clean and refreshing, like winter and something that is just Rose.
"Rose Tyler," he murmurs again, when he breaks the kiss to allow her to breath.
"Doctor," she pants with a faint smile. "I love you, too."
