Well hello there!

I've been trying to write, really I have! I keep having all these half formed plots rolling around in my head, but as soon as I try to write them down they just...fizzle. Seriously, I've got nine half finished DW one shots saved to my desktop, and one document from tonight alone with about five story beginnings that are going no where. Maybe it's because I've been depressed, or because I ran out of money and can't afford mimosas anymore, or maybe it's just because I'm a pretty crap writer, who knows. Point is, I really am trying, and I'm learning a lot about my writing style as I do so (i.e. I suck at descriptive writing and detail, I'm obsessed with pointless dialogue).

Anyways, finally managed to bust this one out tonight, after hours and hours of trying. It's not very good, I'm sure. I haven't even re-read it yet, but I'm so desperate to get something posted. Please let me know what you think. Also, if anyone has any ideas they want to see written and posted, please PM me; I think I might have better luck if I'm given a prompt or something to follow.

Also, Note on the Doctor. I like ten, he is absolutely my favorite, and that is only half because I'm madly in love with David Tennant. That is why the first chapter of Climate Control was a Ten story. But I've got this new obsession with Eleven/Rose that I can't seem to kick. Something about the idea of Rose coming back to him when he's become a different person and done his best to move on (Hello, he was thinking of Rose and Jack in the very same episode that he married River in! That's like missing your ex-girlfriend on the day you get married - strike that, it's exactly that!). I'm trying to write more nine and ten now, which means I'm going back and rewatching nine and ten episodes to try and get a feel for them again, but eleven is still floating around the front of my brain.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership or rights to any part of the Doctor Who franchise, just the large photo's of Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant, and Matt Smith I have stuck to my bulletin board.

This is 'Remember'. Ten/Rose/Eleven

Waking up, surrounded by the scent of Rose's strawberry perfume and with the feel of her in his arms, was like heaven. It was something he'd dreamt about from the first day he'd met her, back in the basement of Henrick's, and she'd proven to be so damned perfect for him. The Doctor turned his head towards hers, eyes still closed, and inhaled deeply. Holding Rose was something he never thought he'd get to do again, something he longed for each time he laid down and something he missed each time he'd woken up for the last several years.

It must be a dream. That's what he decided. No matter the circumstances, it was impossible for Rose to be back with him, aboard the TARDIS. Especially since he'd said goodbye to her in Bad Wolf Bay, after Canary Warf, all those months ago. Travel between dimensions was so close to impossible that even he wouldn't dare to try, and he'd try just about anything twice.

'It's not a dream.' He tried not to, he really did, but the Doctor couldn't help but open his eyes at the sound of his own voice – rather, the sound of the voice that would one day be his. He blurrily focused on the tweed clad, slightly shorter version of himself sat across the room.

'Oh good, you're awake. I've said that three times now, trying to get the timing right. I'm remembering this as I go, you see.'

He didn't speak, refusing to move from his place next to Rose and not wanting to wake her with his voice, merely observed his other self.

'Right, can't wake her up. I remember that now. Dodgy process, this whole remembering thing. You know how it is, you're remembering Mr. Leather's version of this now, right? Of course you are, I remember being you. Anyways, I don't know what's going to happen from here on out, or how this whole situation sorts itself, but I do know – partly because I remember hearing myself say it back when I was you watching me say it – that this right here is the happiest you've been in a very long time. And you can't waste that.'

'What are you – ' Rose shifted against him and the Doctor quieted, at the same time the other him waved a hand, gesturing for him to be silent.

'No! No, don't speak. It's okay, I'm remembering what you're thinking, just let me do the talking. Right now you're thinking that of course you're happy – well of course you are, Rose is right there with you and you're holding her and that is wonderful – but what am I talking about not wasting it?' The other him paused, eyes shifting up and to the left as if trying to remember something. 'Not wasting it? Oh, right! Wasting it as in you've been ignoring her, haven't you! You didn't even inted for this – ' he waved the same hand from before up and down in their direction, referring to his position with Rose asleep on the media room couch '- to happen. You want to ignore her so you can't get hurt again!'

The Doctor rolled his eyes; if this was him in the future he was not looking forward to being so…

'Hey, that's not nice! Don't think that. The point is, you not wanting to talk to Rose is dumb. You love Rose, I love Rose, and you ignoring her is just going to hurt all of us. However this turns out, she probably ends up back with her parents in the other universe. I don't want to have to remember sending her away without telling her how you feel again.'

The Doctor felt his arms tighten around the girl in question, as if trying to ward off the idea of letting her go. He knew his future self was right; he had obviously come into this mess from somewhere, meaning that somehow they'd left the merged TARDIS behind and sent everyone back home. And since Rose hadn't been with him when they arrived, then she must have gone back to Pete's universe in the end. But he didn't want to let her go.

Rose shifted again, and the future Doctor stood up. 'I think she's starting to wake up. You need to talk to her, make sure you set things straight. Don't let her leave unless she knows how we feel. And give me some good memories, yeah?'

Before he could answer, not that he was sure what he would say, future-him had left the room, leaving him alone on the couch with a slowly waking Rose in his arms.

'Doctor?' She said quietly. He looked down to discover her watching him from under tired, half lidded eyes with a small smile on her face.

'Good morning, Rose.' He whispered to her.

'Mmmm. Good morning, yourself.' She stretched, just enough that she didn't move from his grasp. 'I missed this.'

He watched her for a minute, couldn't bring himself to speak. The future him was right; he didn't want to lose her again, but he definitely didn't want to do it without saying goodbye, without saying what he waited too long to say before. It would hurt, he was sure, but she deserved to hear it from him as many times as he could say it; because he loved her, and Rose Tyler deserved to be told that she was loved. That was why, when she'd settled back into him, head snuggled up against his bicep and one hand curling into the one he'd placed around her waist, he spoke.

'Rose, there's something I need to tell you.'