Life After Death
Chapter 4; The Doctor's Diary
(slight spoiler for "The Impossible Planet")
The Doctor pulled Rose along to her old room. She gasped as she entered. It was exactly as she had left it, all those years ago in his time.
"You kept it like this?" she asked in disbelief.
The Doctor suddenly looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Well, I, er…I just couldn't bring myself to do anything else with it."
He pulled her along to the bed. There were books sitting on it, three of them, all several inches thick. He sat down and patted the bed beside him, indicating that she should to. She did, and he picked up one of the books.
"When we were separated," he said slowly, running his hand over the leather cover and not looking at her, "I was as depressed as I'd ever been. Every time I thought I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, I thought it was you. Every time I landed somewhere, I wanted to laugh with you about it. And every time, you weren't there." His voice was heavy with remembered pain.
Rose's breath caught in her throat. "Doctor," she said, but he shook his head quickly, and she stayed silent. He finally looked up at her.
"I began writing to you. I knew that there was virtually no chance I'd ever see you again, but I kept hoping I'd find a way, and that made it more painful than if I'd known it was entirely impossible, because the hope made me want to keep living, but at the same time, it gave me horrendous pain." His eyes darkened. "Over nine hundred years old, and the only other time I've ever felt anything close to that was after the Time War." He glanced back down at the book, and then handed it to her. "Here," he said. "Volume one."
Rose took the heavy book from him. She opened it up and began to flip through it. It was page after page of paper, all of them covered in the Doctor's thin scrawl. The first few pages had slightly blurred portions that she suspected were due to tear marks. In amazement, she looked at the Doctor. "How much did you write?" she asked.
"After every new adventure," he said, glancing at the paper. "And sometimes, just because I was missing you."
"And you did this for ten years?" Rose asked in disbelief.
He nodded. "Because, in the back of my mind, I knew I'd find you again, someday, and when I did, I wanted you to know that I hadn't forgotten you, not a bit."
Rose hugged him, and he buried his face into her neck. "I knew you wouldn't," she said softly. "You loved me enough to use a supernova to say goodbye."
She pulled back and looked at him. "And I'm not goin' anywhere, yeah?" she said softly, smiling at him. "I'm gonna stay with you forever."
He pulled her into his lap, and she came without protest, laying her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for several minutes, with him breathing in the gentle scent of her hair, of her, of Rose, his Rose, his Rose who he had gotten back.
"So," he said finally, breaking the silence. "I know I said I didn't want a mortgage, but what about a lease?"
She lifted her head up and looked at him. "A lease?" she asked.
"Well, as much as I like your family, I don't think I want to be trapped in the same house with a raging-hormone Jackie Tyler for six months, so I was thinking, maybe I could get a flat. And maybe," he said cautiously, almost hesitantly, "I don't know, if you want to, we could, I suppose, share it?"
She kissed him then, and when they broke apart, he gasped, "So I take it you like that idea, then?"
She kissed him again. "Yes," she said when she pulled away this time. She grinned. "I want to see how well you do domestic."