Who's scared of the Big Bad Wolf?

by PepperonyOwl

AU GITF. Her first Doctor had loved Rose enough to put her first; her second Doctor loved her like a goddess - distant, but fiercely. Neither of them ever understood her sacrifices, how many dimensions she'd seen, how many wars, how many she'd loved and lost. Her third Doctor learned that Bad Wolf was a name to be feared; in every dimension. And she was his.

15. Abandon all hope

Hi Everyone!

So, quick warning, there will be some time jumps as events are taking place concurrently; hope this will all make more sense once you get to each person. This will have POVs from Jack, Rose and the Doctor (full Time Lord). And I do hope you won't all hate me by the end of this chapter but fair warning: Abandon all hope, ye who read here.

Big shout out and thank you, as always, to my wonderful, brilliant beta, TheCleverDoctor, without whom I'd have been lost and her help on Jack has been, as always, invaluable!

And this chapter is dedicated to all you brilliant people who took the time to review after the last chapter:

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---

Jack stared after Martha's rapidly disappearing back. He'd tried to hold her back, to stop her without giving away to the others where she was going, what she was going to do. He hadn't been on many adventures with Martha and didn't know her as well as he wanted to, but if there was one character trait which all companions of the Doctor had in common, then it was their never-ending curiosity. And he had seen it, glinting in her eyes, watching both Doctors and Rose, wanting – needing – to know more. But there had been nothing he could do without drawing attention to her plans, so he resigned himself to staying with the others, trusting that the Tardis would stop Martha if she stepped too far over the line.

But he still couldn't believe the sudden turn their adventure had taken. Instead of one, there were now two Doctors; and they looked identical, a carbon copy of one another – and both were still utterly besotted with Rose. It had been almost amusing to see the Doctor – both of them – quelling under Jackie's stern gaze and both versions of him still utterly helpless, doing whatever Rose asked of him, tracking her every movements with their eyes. Had it not been so heartbreaking, knowing that one of them would inevitably end up without the blonde woman at his side, he would have laughed out loud at the idea of both Doctors so completely under the thrall of what his last body had called 'stupid apes'; not that he'd been any different around her then.

But even in that short a space of time one thing had become evident; the Doctors were only barely tolerating each other and Rose would not be able to devote herself entirely to two men – it simply wasn't her, no matter how much she loved them. So, inevitably, one of them would be without her, would be without the healing influence of the blonde and Jack found himself dreading how broken that man would be because one way or another, he'd force Rose to choose and one of him would not like that. Because she wouldn't choose him, or he wouldn't let her choose him and Jack didn't know which was worse. The Doctor forcing Rose to make her own choice, or him trying to make his beloved choose the other version of himself, the more human one, in a false gesture of love.

Had he not had Ianto, he might have suggested taking the metacrisis with him, to Torchwood, where the Doctor would be far from Rose and his other self; besides, they could always use someone with his brilliance where saving the world was concerned. Except he knew that he loved the Doctor and it wouldn't be fair to Ianto to take his old love interest to them, even if he knew nothing could ever come of it. The Doctor, for all his flirting and teasing, had never shown even cursory interest in any female – or male – other than Rose and he'd made it abundantly clear that while he enjoyed Jack's company, it was as a friend only.

He'd known that, of course, well before the Doctor had, gruffly as always, told him almost casually as if trying to lessen the blow. Only it hadn't broken his heart because though he was nearly always capable of seducing anyone he had a vested interest in, it had taken but look at the two of them together back in the 1940's to realise he had no chance.

But still, the Time Lord was beyond impressive, brilliant and clever, someone who could run circles around him – which was, unfortunately, a rather rare quality to find in people – and Rose, well... she was Rose. Always honest, forgiving to a fault, too damn trusting for her own good, unfalteringly loyal, incredibly charming, surprisingly innocent considering she travelled with a wartorn alien and an ex-con artist and, above all else, Rose was genuine; she didn't pretend, didn't hide herself – what you saw was what you got. She was every inch the woman she'd shown herself to be and it was what had drawn him; her joy, her cheek, her very essence radiated out from her and had drawn both him and the Doctor in, like moths to a flame, utterly unable to resist the temptation even if it meant you burned when you got too close.

So yeah, he'd known he'd never have either of them, but he couldn't help but love them. Two people, so utterly convinced the other didn't love them – for how could they? – and so desperately in love with one another, with the universe, willing to give and give, to sacrifice everything for the people they loved. How could he feel anything but love for them, either of them?

It wasn't as though he loved them out of some sort of expectation; in fact, he didn't expect his feelings to ever be returned, didn't expect either of them to ever look at him the way they looked at one another. And that was okay; he didn't need them to. He'd always love them, but he also loved Ianto and Jack refused to offer a solution that would make the other man potentially rather unhappy if he could help it. That wasn't to say he wouldn't help the Doctor – either of them – or Rose, if asked, but he wouldn't volunteer his services to watch over one of them. He couldn't. Not if it meant hurting the man he loved.

Despite his words to Martha months ago, he had never seen this man, this version of the Doctor, around Rose and though he'd had no doubt his words were true, it had still taken him aback to see how much lighter he'd seemed when in her presence. And then, when they'd nearly-almost kissed, he'd thought his heart had stopped even though he'd just been a, well, relatively innocent bystander. He'd almost started to believe that though the tension between the two was obvious to even a blind man, they'd never take any step towards a more romantic relationship – right up until the Doctor had pulled Rose against him and sort of kissed her. But despite how long he'd waited for that moment, he couldn't help but be surprised. A part of him had always half-expected that any move to push past the current boundaries in their relationship would have to come from Rose because the Time Lord would always think of excuses, of reasons for why it shouldn't happen and the blonde was his better half in that respect, keen to enjoy every moment to its fullest. Only it hadn't and Jack thought he could see why.

This woman who'd found her way back into both their lives was not the same one he remembered; he suspected both Doctors had noticed some of the many small incongruities as well, but for the moment they were probably content to push away that niggling sensation in the back of their heads and take hold of the little bit of happiness they'd finally found which was only fair. But he couldn't do the same, couldn't ignore it.

Rose Tyler had changed.

She'd flinched from his touch, tensed when he moved too quickly, when he came near her; the Rose he knew loved touch of any kind, relished in it, needed it, and she'd always trusted him, fully. But now the only one who didn't make her cringe away was the Doctor and he wanted to know why, wanted to know what had made her so afraid of his touch when she used to seek it out.

He'd watched her, carefully, ever since he'd noticed it after that moment in the Tardis and that's why he'd seen her, had watched as she had pulled her mother into a hug and how Jackie had frozen, utter panic and fear in her eyes as she'd tried to pull back. But after a few moments and once Rose had said something which was, unfortunately, inaudible to him, Jackie had reciprocated the hug with a sort of desperation and yearning as though they hadn't hugged in months, if not years. And Mickey had behaved the same way, his every move, at first, had been geared – and still was, partly – to evade and avoid, subconsciously, Rose's touch. And he'd seen the tears shimmering in the other man's eyes, had seen the barely hidden emotion in all three of them and he didn't know what to make of it.

The Rose he knew had hugs for everyone and everything; goodbye-hugs, nice-to-see-you-again-hugs, another-successful-prison-escape-hugs, saved-the-world-hugs, reunion-hugs, thank-you-for-helping-us-hugs, good-morning-hugs, good-night-hugs and just-because-hugs. She was probably the single most contact-friendly person he'd ever met – and that included that Octopi-like female he'd met on Zyarn once... or twice but in his defence, she really knew how to use her hands. All of them.

But she'd not just changed with respect to her need to touch; rather it was only one of many things he'd noticed. There was a new shadow in her eyes, a loss of innocence, a part of her broken and splintered that made him want to find the bastards that did this to her and show them just how much an immortal being of two centuries can learn about the art of torture. He suspected the Doctor would insist on being first in line, though, because, no matter how good a moral codex the alien normally had, where Rose Tyler was concerned, Jack had long since thought that there was very little the Time Lord wouldn't be capable of, if anyone had truly harmed her.

The openly emotional part of Rose was gone – or suppressed, at least, as it shone through at times with the Doctor – and there was a darkness buried in her heart that rivalled the Doctor's, an unbearable pain that stood in stark contrast to the woman he'd known, her beautiful amber eyes filled with torment, with grief, with self-loathing he'd never known her to feel before and a quiet rage that could have subdued even the Doctor's fiercest glare.

So he knew that Rose had changed – not for the better, not grown into the woman he'd always expected her to be, but rather into a version too close to the Doctor for comfort. So many emotions he'd never expected to see in her shone in her eyes and it had taken him aback, at first at least, but now he was more determined than ever to remind her of who she had been – and could be again – to remind her of the beautiful, openhearted person she used to be; just as she'd once brought him back from the path of self-destruction, he thought it was now his time to help her.

Jack knew that though he was – or had been, once upon a time – a trusted friend, he would never be able to return her to her former self by himself alone. The Doctor would have to step up as well and he knew that as soon as the Time Lord was ready to finally accept that Rose was back in his life, he'd see what he'd seen and noticed and would call him when needed to reassure the woman they both loved, to bring her back to who she used to be, could still be.

But to bring her back, they first needed to know what had taken place, what had changed – why she had changed. He knew that Doctor had spent approximately three years without Rose, including the one that never was, but how long had it been for her?

She'd changed since he'd last seen her, but he couldn't tell how much of that time had been spent with the Doctor and how much without him, though if he went by what he'd seen of her, he would've suspected decades away, alone, decades used to break her, slowly, bit by bit and though she held herself together like someone used to not having themselves whole anymore, he refused to let her fight this fight alone, to leave her to stand among the pieces of her broken self when he could help her put herself back together.

"So," he started, a familiar leer forming on his face though his eyes remained sharp, observant, his heart aching for the people he loved, noting the reactions of Jackie and Mickey above anyone else as they were the ones he needed to interrogate. "Anyone else thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I highly doubt it," Sarah Jane said dryly, though her eyes sparkled and her lips were curling up into a sly grin and in that moment Jack once again remembered that the companions chosen by the Doctor were not just curious, but also, inevitably, really clever and this woman's reporter instinct seemed to have easily caught onto his tactics. "But, nevertheless, feel free to enlighten us. What are you thinking, Jack?"

Oh, he really liked her. She really was brilliant. He winked at her, his leer becoming slightly more genuine than he'd intended to as he found himself imagining for just a moment what he was suggesting; oh, what a sweet, sweet world that would be.

"That Rose is taking inordinately long for 'just talking'. And that she's alone, secluded somewhere with two versions of the man she loves. I know what I would be doing if I had two of him."

Sarah Jane laughed with Donna following only moments later and he grinned in satisfaction as he watched Mickey first grimace before a reluctant smile made its way onto his face. Only Jackie remained torn between reprimanding him and an exasperated rolling of her eyes; which was only fair – it was her daughter, after all. But still, all of them were amused and their inhibitions lowered, which was how he needed them so they could casually talk about Rose and hopefully tell him why she'd changed so much from when he had last seen her.

"Rose wouldn't do that," Jackie finally said and he only barely stopped himself from focusing on her entirely, knowing it would make her uncomfortable and she'd start to think too carefully about what to say to be of much use to him.

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure," Sarah Jane said before he could, a devious smirk on her lips, "I know I'd be tempted."

He couldn't help himself, her quick wit and teasing tone eliciting a surprised laugh from him; he really, really liked her. She was not only sharp and quick, obviously having caught onto his plan, but also interesting and he thought it a shame he hadn't ever been with her when she travelled with the Doctor; her feisty nature would've undoubtedly made their adventures just as interesting as they were with Rose.

Mickey looked faintly amused and Jackie was now laughing as well.

"I know. I came onto him, actually, first time I saw him," at this admission of Jackie's he was amused to see Rose's ex look rather ill while Sarah Jane laughed and Donna nodded slightly as though she recalled that moment as well.

Then, frowning, Jackie added, "though that was before he abducted my girl for a whole year and then dumped her in a parallel universe. Reckon a lot of stuff would've never happened, had she never met him."

And... an opening! Sarah Jane really was brilliant, getting Rose's mother to open up that quickly. Jackie was still being rather vague, but a prod here or there and Jack reckoned he'd have her at least telling him bits and pieces about why her daughter had changed so much.

"From what I understand, he didn't want to leave her but he couldn't get her back," he said gently, trying to seem as if he was merely curious in her answer with no other vested interest in her response.

"Oh, is that what himself said?" There was an undercurrent of anger, but mainly she sounded bitter. "Well, he damn well tried to dump her in that parallel world and had it not been for Rose making her way back to him, he probably would've never even tried to get her back or say goodbye. My daughter chose him over me and-" Jackie paused momentarily, a tired laugh escaping her and rubbing her eyes as she tried to control her conflicting emotions. "And that's okay. I understand that, of sorts, after all she would've been happier had she stayed here. But how could he ever have left her behind? How could he send her to that other world with us? Does he even know how much she struggled, how much she hurt? How many times she broke down? How often she nearly died? What gruesome, horrible things she went through in all those worlds on her way to him? Why couldn't he have helped her? Let her stay here? At least she would've been safe!"

For a moment, he regretted pushing her; though she'd still not revealed any details, she'd told him more than she wanted to about what had happened to Rose. Something had changed and the parallel worlds had forced her through an experience her mother rather she didn't have to go through.

Sarah Jane acted before anyone else, easily striding across the room and taking the other woman into her arms, consoling her, leaving him to look at Donna for an explanation.

"What would possess him to ever leave her behind? The Doctor I know could never leave her behind."

"Not unless her life was at risk," the redhead corrected him gently and he had to concede to that, remembering all the times the Doctor had tried to send her back to his ship and how the blonde had ignored him, every time, choosing to stay with him despite the danger until he gave in.

"He did try to send her to the other world," Donna confirmed, "but only because he was scared of her being sucked into the void. The Void is... Well, it's the space between parallel worlds. It's empty. No time vortex – it's nowhere and everywhere, it's a space where every second is a millennium and every millennium, a second. Time has no meaning. It's what his people and many others across the universes would've called hell; there's no touch, no smell, no sense of existence in any way we can understand. And he was scared she would land there, that she would be sucked into that place along with all the Daleks and Cybermen. Had it not been for her father's rescue at the last minute, she would've been there. He hated it, hated leaving her, hated himself for doing it, but he saw no other option, had no other choice; that way, he thought, she could've at least been with her family, made a life for herself, found happiness along the way. It's also why he said goodbye. Sarah Jane told him she'd spent years waiting and he didn't want Rose to do the same, didn't want her to wait for something that never could – or would – happen."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, his heart aching, knowing how hard it must've been for the Doctor to send her away in the first place only for her to come back and still be ripped away from him just when he would have started to hope. And Rose – Jack knew he'd only scratched the surface of how often the world had come under threat by one alien race or another. He'd never let himself dwell too long on what his planet would've ended up like, had they succeeded, though now he suspected he wouldn't have to. Rose would have the answer to the question he'd never dared to pose.

Jackie would probably not have details either; the blonde he knew would've kept her mother from ever finding out the true horrors, the details, giving only blanket statements if that. So for her to even know this much, something had to have happened. Rose must've been under so much stress, in so much pain, that she needed to open up to someone – anyone.

"How long has it been since you last touched one another?" The time for subtlety was long past and he ignored the hidden warning in Sarah Jane's eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mickey asserted, eyes firm and refusing to give an inch though he didn't know how much older Jack was now; he had always been aware of people, of body language but two centuries had honed his skill to near-perfection. So he could see the barely hidden tension, the hands clenched too tightly, the slightest narrowing of the eyes, the gritted teeth and the barely veiled look of concern he gave Jackie.

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about. Jackie was afraid when Rose hugged her, genuinely afraid and panicked. And you were near tears. That is not normal," he stared at them, evaluating, analysing every minute movement, every tell, needing to know so he could help her, could help Rose and he refused to feel guilty for making them uncomfortable; if that's all it took, it was a price he was willing to pay to know how to make her happy again.

"We were just happy to have survived," Mickey said firmly before Jackie had a chance to speak up.

"No, it's more than that. A lot more. There's something you're not telling us, either of you. And I'm sorry, but this is about Rose and I have very little patience where she is concerned, so the kid gloves are coming off," he warned them, voice dark. He had been through two world wars, he'd been tortured, he'd killed and today he had seen that same darkness he saw in his own eyes and in the Doctor's in Rose's and that was not acceptable. Not her. Never her.

So even though this was Rose's mum and her ex-boyfriend, he could no longer go easy on them. Not if they refused to help him, to help her, not if they had remained mute for so long and allowed that darkness inside her to fester, not if they had done nothing he could see to help her.

"TELL ME!" He roared, using his height to tower of them, to intimidate them, hating himself and yet knowing that he'd do it all over again if they would just tell him. "What happened to her? What happened to Rose?"

To his surprise it wasn't Mickey or Sarah Jane or even Donna who stood up to him; it was Jackie. Wiping her tears off her face, eyes narrowed and hands on her hips though just as he could tell her confidence was faked, he knew her indignation was not and he couldn't help but admire her slightly and for the first time he understood where Rose had gotten her courage from.

"My daughter will tell you if and when she wants to," Jackie asserted steadfastly, voice low and eyes narrowed at him, and despite the tear tracks on her cheek he couldn't help but feel like she'd make a formidable opponent, rather reminiscent of Rose and her defensive nature where those she loved were concerned. "I, for one, am not going to tell you a damn thing."

"Can't you see that the time to keep her secrets is long gone? Can't you see how much she's hurting? How much she needs us, needs help? And yet you still refuse to speak up and help her?!"

He hadn't even seen it coming but the next moment his head was thrown sideways as he for the first time ever suffered Jackie's wrath and his cheek exploded with heat and pain. Jack found himself cracking his jaw slightly as if to make sure everything was still in place, blinking in surprise at the sheer force behind the slap and, for a moment, truly pitied the Doctor; undoubtedly this version of him had an unstoppable gob on him with his tact still edging on non-existent and his rather clever brain still lagging at least a step behind everything that came out of his mouth – well, all of that inevitably meant that he had and would probably keep on aggravating Rose's mother to the point of no return and if this slap was anything to go by, he'd truly come to regret ever opening his mouth.

"How dare you tell me I don't care! I love her! I was the one who picked up the pieces when you were all gone and she was stuck with us, with me, in a world she didn't belong!"

Curious, he noted, a world where 'she' didn't belong, implying that both Mickey and Jackie did but not Rose. Something which meant more than just latent feelings for the Doctor, but rather something more serious?

"I spent months upon months at her side before she ever even remembered that I was her mother! How dare you tell me I don't care! I care more than you ever will. Rose is my daughter! Mine! And I would never betray her confidence, would never tell you; she is- she is old, old enough to make her own bloody decisions and you had better be ready to wait until she is good and ready to share them with you."

Jackie was breathing hard, her entire body tense with anger and Mickey was the only one who looked even remotely guilty about keeping his mouth shut, though he now suspected that the boy knew less than her mother did which came as a surprise; though, having seen how hard she pushed back, Jack thought he could see how she came to know so much. It was obvious that she had pushed Rose until the girl had confessed whatever had changed in her, or at least some of it.

Sarah Jane looked as curious as he felt and Donna looked torn; an emotion he thought he could understand. She had all the Doctor's memories and knowledge but not his feelings, meaning as far as she was concerned, she'd not had time to develop an emotion with regards to the blonde, protective or otherwise, yet her memories told her differently. He wasn't sure how long she could hold out; humans weren't meant to hold that many memories, that much knowledge and he feared what it would do the vivacious redhead who, even now, kept reaching for her head periodically as if she was in great pain.

But Jackie had revealed rather more than she wanted to – the bit about her not remembering her own mother; metaphorically speaking? Rose had run away? Seemed unlikely and rather out-of-character for the woman he knew, but not necessarily impossible. And if not, what did that mean? She'd had memory loss? Humans could, in trauma, forget parts of their past... but traumatic enough to make Rose forget who her mother was? That seemed rather severe and surprising; so even less likely... or was it?

And what about the emphasis Jackie had placed on 'old'? The woman he'd seen was maybe 22, 24 tops. Not something that qualified as old; but then again he looked younger than his years as did the Doctor. Had something happened to her? Was she older than she looked? But then again, Mickey didn't look as though he'd aged significantly. Maybe 3-4 years older than when he'd last seen him but none of those would explain Jackie's reaction or her words.

Before he could assuage her – or antagonise, he hadn't quite made up his mind as to which would be more effective – the metacrisis strolled in, only to come to a dead stop, staring at them all. The air was tense, Jackie looked like she'd been crying and was obviously in a rage, Mickey angry, Donna confused and Sarah Jane in between the two and him, obviously, in a confronting stance before them. Great. Just what they needed.

"What's going on?" The Doctor's voice was sharp, his eyes narrowed and mostly at him, undoubtedly having picked him out as the likely instigator – correctly, in this case.

Before he could open his mouth and say something – what, he wasn't sure yet – Jackie spoke up, covering for him to his surprise.

"He told me I look old. I don't look old, do I, Doctor?"

Oh, well done. He had to hand it to her; she was good at covering up when she needed to be and obviously had no intention of forcing the Doctor to confront the differences in his blonde companion – unfortunately, Jack agreed with her on this occasion. Leave them to their happy bliss for as long as it lasted, anyway. He gave a short nod to Jackie, acknowledging her decision and his intention of going along with her plan.

Besides, it was always amusing the watch the Doctor quite so panic-stricken, eyes flitting this way and that, tongue-tied as he obviously sought a solution to a question where, most probably, any of his answers were going to land him in trouble; and not the kind of trouble he normally enjoyed.

---

When he'd requested she repeat her words from that day, she hadn't known what to do at first. It had been years since that day on the beach for her, decades even, and while her feelings for him hadn't changed, he no longer knew her, didn't know who she'd become, what she'd done and Rose hadn't been sure if she still had a right to him, a right to say those words, to declare her feelings. But then she had seen the desperation, his longing, his self-loathing, his uncertainty and she hadn't been able to help herself. Even if she had changed, even if they did reject her, both of them, she wanted him to know, just as she had back then, wanted him to understand that he would never be alone, never be unloved, never be beyond forgiveness, not for her.

And then he'd said them, those wonderful, beautiful, terrible words. I love you. He'd said them and she'd noticed – of course she'd noticed – the trembling hands, the warmth in his voice, the affection he didn't bother hiding and she'd known then that he meant them and she cursed that dreaded day once more, that day where she'd decided to look into the Tardis; for if she had died, even if it had been a parallel world, at least she would've died as the Rose Tyler the Doctor knew, the one he loved. Not this, not the person she'd become, this warped, twisted person who handled weapons with ease and killed her own kind.

She had been forced to blink back the tears, the pain, the sorrow, and deliberately misspoke, unsure what she was saying but knowing that they needed some levity, some humor, anything to distract her from confessing to him – to them – right then and there about everything she'd done, everything that burdened her. He didn't deserve that. He deserved better. But then again, that was the problem, wasn't it? Out of all of time and space, all the species spread out across the stars, he had apparently chosen her and yet how could he ever love her now that she was the epitome of everything he hated? Well, maybe not epitome – she wasn't a Dalek after all – but close enough. The man who hated weapons, hated guns, just as Davros had said and what else was she, if not a weapon?

Yet instead she'd told him how much she loved him, would always love him, hoping that at least that would soothe his pain away, would heal some of the darkness, some of the bitterness he always hid away deep inside of himself, hoping that he would carry that knowledge wherever he went if they were to be separated after all; that maybe he'd never get to find out how far she'd gone, how far she'd fallen, and it would bring him some consolation at least.

It was still hard to fathom that he'd ever asked her what she wanted in return for her affections; it wasn't because he didn't believe in unconditional love – she knew he believed – but rather it was because he didn't think himself worthy of it.

She knew he didn't quite understand that even if there were a hundred thousand Time Lords and a hundred thousand Tardises offering them the same thing he did, that all of his companions would choose him, every time. He didn't understand that yes, they all enjoyed the adventure, the discovery, the excitement and adrenaline and a million other new things, but that they all also loved him. The Doctor; the one man saving the entire universe, every world, all by himself.

Except he could no longer see his own good sides, everything drowned out by the cacophony of screams in his head. She knew he believed himself to be beyond saving and refused to see what everyone else saw in him; his determination, his strength of will and his unbending refusal to give up or give in, but instead fighting for what he believed in with every ounce of strength he had to give.

It was inspiring, it was amazing, breathtaking even, and Rose understood completely why so many had chosen to accompany him or help him and also why so many had sacrificed themselves so he could live. A man so desperate, so lonely and yet never faltering, never stopping, for millennia carrying on when no one else did, caring where no one else would. He carried the hopes of the entire universe on his shoulder, all their lives in all of time and across the entirety of space and yet he didn't bend, didn't break. He inspired fear and awe in nearly equal amounts across the universe but all he could see was the darkness, not the light and so she told him, tried to convince him that no matter what he had done, no matter what he would do, he would never ever be able to lose her; not her faith and definitely not her love.

She saw it, the moment he actually started to believe her, started to understand what she felt, what she was offering him, started to understand that she would not shy away from him, would not rebuff him, would not doubt him or loathe him for any of his choices. And her own heart lightened when she saw the darkness fade a bit, the incredulousness make way for gratitude and when he finally allowed himself to accept everything she was offering.

The moment he latched onto her, pressing her body against him tightly with such strength and yet taking care not to hurt her, she noticed how his every action was laced with desperation as if, until now, he'd still thought she'd disappear on him, would fade away beneath his touch. So she'd allowed him to hold her and reciprocated the hug, unable to completely will away her own desperation at how much she'd missed his touch, his affection and her dark thoughts on what his reactions to her choices would be.

He was forgiving with his enemies because he didn't expect any different; but he did from his friends, his companions. He held them up to the highest of standards and her more so than most; and she'd failed him, irrevocably failed both of him in ways she doubted he could ever forgive. How would he ever look at her once he found out? With hate? With despair? With regret or guilt? With dread or with loathing? Would there still be that spark of recognition in his eyes? Would there still be that underlying warmth, that affection, or would he look at her like a stranger? Or, worse, an enemy, someone who needed to be stopped?

Rose had missed it, that casual affection, but even Jake's hugs and now Jack's and Sarah Jane's had never been able to fill that void inside her, had never been able to console her, to lend her strength, to make her feel at home. He did; especially his full Time Lord self. From the very beginning, she'd grown accustomed to it with surprising ease – to this beautiful, wonderful alien, who, no matter what face he wore, still always smelled mostly the same, felt the same; not his body per se as it changed with regeneration, but rather his barely hidden strength, the tension in his frame and yet his careful way of holding her as if he was afraid to break her, his concern and his affection for her evident, the way he always seemed to buzz with energy, with power, just beneath the surface and yet so content to stay still in her arms, to stop running, to enjoy the moment and then there was that intoxicating smell of time, of Doctor, that seemed to always soothe away all her pains, all her nightmares and fears, as if his sheer presence was enough to keep everything at bay.

She loved how he didn't feel like anyone else when they touched, how the Doctor's temperature was always several degrees below hers, how despite the chill from his body, he could make her feel so warm, her skin fairly humming underneath his touch the way it always did, had always done. She loved looking in his eyes, both of them, how they never shielded themselves from her, not fully, as if his feelings, his emotions, were overflowing past his barriers and refused to be suppressed; the way his dark brown eyes looked at her like she was the amazing one out of the two of them, as though she'd been the one to save him, as if she was his answer to everything.

Then, suddenly, she remembered that there were two, that the man in her arms was now two and that she had, unintentionally, ignored the other man, the half-human one. And yet despite it all, his metacrisis had given them both all this time to work it out even though he had, undoubtedly, felt the same and needed the same reassurances, the same words, needed to know that she loved him just as much.

But he still deserved to hear it, to know that she understood that he was still the Doctor, both of them were. A new, new, new Doctor, but the Doctor nonetheless, because it had never been the body or its capabilities that made him the Doctor but rather who he was, his personality, his feelings, his mind, his determination. To her, the Doctor, no matter which form he took, was a remarkable man; half-human or not.

"I love you," Rose said, her hand stretched out towards the metacrisis – his already within reach as if anticipating her manoeuvres, the same way they always did, always reaching for another as if they knew what the other was doing before the action was ever taken. His hand was notably warmer than the Time Lords, almost fully matching her own, she noted absently as she allowed her fingers to curl around his.

The lips of the other Doctor, his half-human self, curled up and he gave her a warm smile, hesitating for but a moment on his response, before he simply said her name – the same way he always said it when he was proud of her, when he could not contain his affection for her; as if he revered her, as if her name was the single most important word in the universe, as if she was his reason for everything, as if her name was invocation, a prayer and Rose could not help but shiver slightly in response as his tongue curled lovingly around each syllable, caressing it, and for the first time she realised how much she'd missed hearing it, hearing her own name instead of another that she'd adopted on her travels.

"Rose Tyler."

And it was enough; if that was all she'd ever receive, then it was enough, more than enough. No one had ever looked at her like he did; not in decades and decades of travel had anyone ever looked at her like that and she wanted to bask in it, just for a little bit longer.

But the song was getting louder and louder, the Tardis more and more insistent that Rose talk to her. Not soon, not in a bit, but now. When, for the third time in the space of a minute, the ship's melody increased, she could no longer hold back a wince. Both Doctors, immediately alerted to her pain, to her body tensing ever so slightly, looked at her with concern, frowning, trying to discern where and who was hurting her.

And then the song got louder yet again and Rose's brows furrowed, her hands automatically going to her head as if to somehow avert the pain though she knew it would be futile; it wasn't physical, it was the Tardis' song transmitting along their connection and all the mental fortitude in the world could not cap that bond.

"Here, I can-"

Hands went near her temple and the world around her faded and narrowed until all she could see was the hands in her personal space, hands that reached for her temple, her head, her memories, her feelings and every secret she held that had to be kept – at any cost, at all cost.

Rose flinched violently, jerking away, scrambling backwards, not caring just as long as it took her away from the danger, the hands that threatened to take away all she held precious, that threatened to rip away her feelings and memories of the man she loved, that threatened to tear her apart and twist her, twist her until she was their tool, until she was obedient, until their world was all she could see.

And she refused; not again.

Rose panicked.

Unadulterated fear rushed through her core, her veins, every part of her until she could scarcely breathe, her body trembling from what it knew was coming and her mind rushing to defend itself despite knowing how futile the action was; without someone to teach her, she could only learn so much. But at least she could hinder them, could make delay them; even if it was only for a few short hours, maybe it would be enough, maybe it would give him – them – time to run. And so she flung all her power behind strengthening her mental barricades, enclosing everything she was, everything she held dear and her memories, locking herself away to the best of her ability in the few seconds she had to spare.

Her fear had given way to utter terror and Rose had long since relinquished control over her body, knowing she would be unable to control its movements as it curled in on itself, trembling, eyes wide and fixed on their attacker.

And yet, despite the fact she'd never allowed her eyes to leave them, it still took another few precious seconds before her brain actually processed the information, her visual cortex informing her that the two people in front of her were, in fact, the Doctor. And her emotions, her memories, informed her that this man, either of them, would never hurt her, not at this stage where they thought her innocent at least.

Slowly she released her hold on her knees, tried to force her body to stop trembling, tried to let go of the fear and panic still clawing at her heart, to show him she really was okay even when she wasn't, afraid of how much he could already tell, how easy he found it to read her even when she was not providing him with so much evidence of how not-alright she really was.

And so, despite the way hear heart was racing, despite how tight her throat was with tears of both dread and relief trying to force their way past, Rose slowly moved back towards him, towards both of him, her mind trusting them even when her heart still quaked with uncertainty. The adrenaline in her system was still urging her to run, to flee, far away from the danger but she ignored it, ignored all the alarm bells ringing in her mind and her heart, knowing that she really could trust the Doctor, both versions of him, and refusing to give into her body's response.

And he noticed, he saw, the same way he always did, analysing, watching her every move, every word she said and left unsaid, every action she took and she knew that he suspected, at the very least, that someone had forcefully invaded her mind before; how could he not when her every action had been so automatic, her body and mind responding to a threat they recognised before rational thought reasserted itself. Never before had she responded so violently to his offers to look into her mind, to help her.

And, ever so slowly, she became aware of his voice, his words, her heartbeat gradually resuming a more even pace as she allowed him to soothe her, gently edging her body closer to him again. And he was clever enough to not have followed her, his hands up in a placating manner, watching her as one would a wild animal, cautious and every action designed to quell her fears, to calm her, to allow her room to make her way back to him rather than backing her into a corner.

"See? Nothing to be afraid of, Rose. You know I'd never hurt you, don't you? ... I'm right here, see? Not moving. I'm just gonna stay right here and whenever you feel like it, you can come back to me... I would never hurt you, never. You can trust me. You are safe. You are with me, two of me, inside the Tardis. And I would never allow anyone to touch you as long as I'm here; but you know that, don't you? I'll protect you. That's it. Come to me, Rose. Don't rush it. I'll still be here, no need to force yourself, no need to rush. I will wait for you. Don't panic. I'm not running and I won't leave you. Just come to when you're ready. Trust me. I will protect you, I'll make sure no one can ever hurt you again. Oh Rose, my wonderful, precious Rose."

The Doctor swallowed hard, trying to suppress his guilt, his need to apologise, she knew, because he was aware that any reminder of what had happened to her would not be beneficial right at this moment.

"Nearly there," he encouraged again, eyes warm and tender as he looked at her, cautiously, ever so slowly stretching his hand out towards her, trying not to startle her, "there we go, Rose. I'm right here. Come to me. I'll protect you. You can trust me. And you do, don't you? Always trusting me, no matter what harebrained scheme I've come up with."

She felt her lips twitch and could see the relief that spread across his face at the first palpable reaction to his words, a gratified smile spreading across his face as she reached out with her own hand towards him.

"That's it. Good girl. Just a couple of inches more. You can do it. There's no need to rush yourself, just know that I'm here for you. Right here. Not going anywhere."

His hand was cool against her own but oh-so-familiar and it gave her the small jolt of reality she'd needed, the small but instinctual feeling and understanding that this really was him, that this was not a dream or an elaborate fantasy her mind had created. Her hand tightened around his to the point of pain, her eyes wide as she stared at him but he refused to wince, to show pain or fear or look at her with anything other than affection and trust, promising her that safety she'd been yearning for over the last few decades.

Rose couldn't stop the tears this time, relief tightening her throat and flooding her heart as she fairly flew into his arms. He gave her a moment before the Doctor's arms cautiously inched across her back, holding her to him, tightening fractionally around her when she showed no signs of fear, ensconcing her in the safety of his arms before dropping relieved kisses on top of her head and she closed her eyes, soaking up the comfort and protection he provided her with.

She allowed herself a few moments with her eyes closed and half-buried against his neck, her tears soaking his shirt, before she slowly leaned back against his arms, allowing his strength to support her, so she could see his face, his eyes, so she could understand just how much he knew – or had guessed. She needed to do some damage control and figure out if she was too late to hide some of the things that had happened to her.

Her lips unwillingly formed a weak smile when, rather than letting her go in the presumption that she needed space, the Doctor, as always, knew her well enough – and could read her well enough – to know that she didn't want to leave the safety of his arms, that she just wanted to see him, to look at him. His arms remained where they were, on her back, lending her his support and his strength, keeping her as close as he could while still being able to see each other.

"Thank you," she simply said, her voice hoarse and drawn from her tears and the exhaustion now pulling at her as well. The Tardis' song had quietened, a light melody in the back of her mind rather than an ever-louder crescendo forcing her into action; the ship was giving her the time she needed to recover and Rose couldn't have been more grateful to either of them for giving her exactly what she needed without her ever having to voice any of it. The metacrisis was at their side, one arm carefully placed around her waist, reassuring her of their presence, their protection, without words.

A gentle, slightly wry smile curved the Time Lord's lips upwards. "You're quite welcome."

But his brown eyes were dark, hooded, filled with grief, with sorrow and a quiet rage that had her heart stopping for one second before Rose realised that, for now at least, it was not directed at her but rather at whoever had done this to her. He knew, then. She shouldn't have expected any less and she hadn't, not really, but she'd hoped. Hoped that somehow he would've missed or misinterpreted the signs, though it had been a fool's hope from the start. He'd always been able to read her and she'd given him enough clues that a blind man could've seen the origin of her fears.

With a muted sigh she gave him a weak smile – more like a twitching of her lips – trying to reassure him that she was alright again, now that she was here and now that he was holding her. The Doctor gave a short look to the man at her side and she felt the arm around her waist tightening imperceptibly, allowing her body to still lean fully against them, his strength holding her up, holding her in place, as the Time Lord gently removed one of his arms from behind her back, his hand caressing her on its journey towards her neck though she knew his real intention was simply to keep contact so she could tell what he was doing and wouldn't be frightened.

"I'm not-" he started, but she interrupted him.

"'s okay, Doctor. I trust you."

This time, her smile was full and real, her heart filled with nothing but love, complete, utter love and her own unfailing trust in him, in the Doctor, in the fact that he would never hurt her, would never willingly do anything to cause her pain. Relief shone in his eyes and as his hand slowly travelled up her neck to her face she allowed her eyes to flutter close, angling her head to the side slightly – but not to hinder his journey towards her face but rather to prolong the exquisite sensations he was so skilled in evoking in her even with something as simple as his touch.

By the time his hand cupped her cheek gently, her heart was racing again – not in fear though, not now that every part of her was so very, very aware of the two men holding her, but rather in response to her longing, the adrenaline still rushing through her system fuelling her innate desire until Rose thought her skin was on fire, the aching need inside her soothed only by his cool skin as she sought out his touch, his every move only making her want more, crave more, a pleasant tingling sensation spreading wherever their bodies touched, almost like a current forming between his body and hers. The roughness of his thumb was a pleasant contrast to the soft skin of her cheek as it burned beneath his touch, a fire alit in her that refused to be soothed; she allowed her face to follow his touch, leaning into his hand, needing, wanting, every inch of her body yearning – for him, for more.

Then his hand went further upward, resting against her temple gently and for a second, her heart stopped and her body tensed though Rose refused to give into the slightest bit of panic stirring in her heart. But nothing happened. No spark, no touch, no mental presence, her mind left undisturbed, and after a moment, his hand moved on, gliding through her hair, stroking the shell of her ear, luring her to give in, to relax, to let the other feelings he invoked in her take precedence again.

And, with a pleased sigh, she did, her head relaxing as her neck muscles and shoulder muscles did, allowing the rest of her body to follow suit. Rose kept her eyes closed, wondering, partly, how far he would go and knowing at the same time that nothing would ever take place; not while there were two of him, not before the problem with Donna was sorted, not before Jackie was back in the other world – and not before she'd told him what had happened. Although she knew all that, her mind refused to believe, her imagination spinning vivid dreams as his every touch left her wanting more.

"Rose," he said, softly, and she opened her eyes only to find a mute apology in his for not allowing her to forget, for not allowing them to succumb to their desires and she just smiled in response, silently telling him that it was okay, that she hadn't expected any less. They rarely needed words to communicate and it seemed even all that time apart hadn't changed it as the Doctor smiled gently in response to her nonverbal reassurance.

"Rose," his metacrisis spoke up and she tilted her head lazily in his direction, desire still running hot through her veins despite the fact that he'd never take it further, and she knew he could still see it, read it in her eyes – and probably her body – when a tiny almost self-satisfied smirk curled at the corner of his lips, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly.

But just as suddenly as the smirk had come, it disappeared and he became serious again. Her Time Lord in the mean time had moved his hand to her arm, caressing it through the thin fabric, drawing words in his language on her forearm, soothing the fire, the ache inside of her silently, allowing her to simply enjoy the touches, the contact between them without her body being tense, half-expecting something that would never come.

"Did some-," he broke off and she noted the tension in his jaw, the anger glinting in his eyes, the way his arm around her waist tightened involuntarily as he tried to hold himself back. Even half-human, half-Time Lord with that little bit of Donna mixed in, he hadn't changed, all his nonverbal cues which she'd learned over her time with him just as evident in this him as they were in the full Time Lord.

"There are many telepathic species spread across the universe," he finally started again, his voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone as it always did when he was showing off, explaining something new to her, but she could still hear the way he forced himself to speak slowly, the slight sharpness as his tongue wrapped itself around every word, his fury evident to her where she doubted many would have seen anything but what he wanted them to.

"And while all telepathic societies have different rules, there are some common denominators among all of them. Things like you don't project your feelings or your thoughts and among people like mine – who would be classified as touch telepaths by the way – contact was extremely limited as well. No displays of affection, overt or otherwise, no shaking hands to greet one another and never mind holding hands or hugging; not that anyone would want to hug them – bunch of old codgers that they were, utterly set in their ways."

That elicited a bright grin from her just as he'd undoubtedly intended, his eyes twinkling slightly and the tension in his face easing ever so slightly.

"But there was one rule which every telepathic society had in common," he finally said and the tension was back, his eyes narrowed and dark, his rage simmering just below the surface, "and that was that you didn't go into anyone's - anyone's – mind uninvited, telepath or not telepath."

His free hand closed around hers, reassuring her, lending her his strength as he continued, knowing he was hurting her, ripping away at fresh wounds which had not faded in the decades past, had never scabbed over, and knowing that she needed to hear him say it, nevertheless.

"To enter someone's mind without their consent is not just tantamount to r-" he cut himself off, forcing his breath out between clenched teeth as he tried to retain his self-control, tried to stop himself from wanting to not just kill whoever had harmed her, but also to stop himself from allowing her to forget, knowing it would solve nothing and would only hurt her further in the long run if it remained a secret.

Another deep breath and then he continued, "it's worse. As horrifying as it is, one you can recover from. The other... when someone invades your mind like that, they can implant suggestions, they can hide memories, twist and associate different feelings with them – they can wipe your entire mind and still make you like them, never knowing what happened to you, what they took from you, what they made you. And you can't fix it yourself; you need another telepath to go into your mind, to help you rebuild, to identify what's you and what's not. But, as you can imagine, trusting someone after... after that is difficult and few can still open their minds to someone else, their hearts. Mainly because you can't tell what's real and what's not anymore. Few have ever been coherent again and even less have ever been able to handle any kind of telepath around them afterwards; most were lost. First they lost their mind and then their body followed soon after. And... And when someone- when someone did that, every society sentences them to death; because they didn't just take a life, but to do something like this- they changed what makes that person who they are. There is no going back, not really, and so the punishment is accordingly... But, Rose, you..."

There was so much grief, so much pain in his eyes and she knew they were but a reflection of her own. But despite the way her heart throbbed, her every breath laced with pain, reminding her of what happened, she couldn't help but wish that she could take his away, that she could stop the Doctor, her Doctor, both of them, from looking like they were in so much agony, so sad, for her. She was okay. She had survived – and yet he looked as though he'd lost her.

"Did someone...?" He swallowed and she noticed the sheen of the tears in his eyes, the trembling of his hands, the convulsive swallowing as he tried to form words, tried to calm her, help her and she couldn't help but smile softly, sadly, and it seemed to be the answer he had dreaded and yet all the answer he needed, his eyes closing for a moment, tears running down his face as he allowed his forehead to touch her own.

Rose refused to give in, her hand running soothingly over the hand from the half-human Doctor at her waist and her other around the shoulders of the man in front of her, hoping to tell them that it was okay, that she was alright, even if she did not yet have the words for it.

To hear his words, to see and feel just how broken he was over something that had happened to her, something which she'd feared his judgment for – after all, shouldn't she have held out longer? Shouldn't she have known and not fallen headfirst into their trap? – took away some of her own pain and she refused to allow the rest of it to overwhelm her, refused to give into her sorrow and her anger, her desperation and the loss of something she'd never known she'd had. Unfailing trust, blind faith; because she hadn't been able to, after that experience, look at others without that tiny hint of suspicion, that niggle in the back of her mind that everyone had ulterior motives, no matter what they said.

When his eyes opened again, his face was still just mere inches from her own, the cool skin of his forehead touching her own, calming the furore of emotions inside of her, his brown eyes on hers a soothing balm for her own fears and doubts.

"I'm sorry."

That, at least, she did have an answer for though she couldn't help but feel confused by the apology; what did he have to apologise for, after all?

"It wasn't your fault, Doctor. You weren't even there."

He flinched at her words and all of a sudden, his apology started to make sense.

"I don't blame you, Doctor," she started, holding eye contact with him even as he moved a tiny distance away so she could see his expression better, leaving her momentarily bereft and her face too warm, "you had no way of knowing it was going to happen and no way of protecting me. You already carry so much guilt around with you, Doctor, and I don't ever want you to feel guilty about anything that happened to me or that I did. My choices, remember?"

"I think," he said, a slow smile curving his lips gently upwards, though his eyes remained hooded, "I'm supposed to make you feel better, not the other way around."

"It's alright, Doctor."

"No," he disputed, his voice low and dark, eyes filled with sorrow and rage, "it's not alright. It will never be alright again. This isn't just something you get over, Rose."

"No," she agreed, her own voice slightly hoarse with suppressed tears, "it isn't."

"Tell me who did this, who did this to you?" His rage had only mounted at her quiet acquiescence but there was a desperation, a need to make it all better, to take away her pain and make whoever had done this to her, pay, to wipe them out of existence so she could be certain they would never come after her again. He didn't yet know that she'd already done that.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her heart quivering with the need for reassurance and yet her mind reminded her that there was nothing he could do, nor anything he needed to do.

"I'm going to find them and then I am going to make them pay for what they did to you." His voice shook with emotions, one of the few times he allowed them to shine through and she couldn't help but note that he was now advocating the very action he'd condemned his metacrisis for.

"There's nothing you can do," she told him instead, trying to fix both men with her eyes. "Besides, you're in the wrong universe for that," she reminded them.

"Then I'll go to the right one," he asserted firmly, not one to be deterred by simple facts; that one almost elicited a true smile from her, but the pain was still too close to her heart, the topic of discussion still able to tear her mind and heart apart, so she just tilted her head slightly, her mind reaching out and analysing the cracks in between the universes which were slowly healing, closing up one by one.

"Okay," she admitted, "that is still possible, but I don't think you'd find your way back here in time."

"Why won't you tell me?" he questioned, frustrated, though he never allowed it to carry over into his actions, his hands on her remaining soft and careful.

"Because I think you wouldn't care. I think you'd even seek them out here, in this world, and you'd punish them for something they never did."

The Time Lord grimaced for a second and the metacrisis averted his eyes for a moment, telling her all she needed to know, though he denied it, "I wouldn't punish them if they hadn't done anything."

"No," she confirmed, "you'd stalk them all through time and you'd find out if they've ever so much as contemplated taking anything you deem not right, searching for something – anything – to condemn them with."

For a moment she was tempted to add 'am I right' to her words, but she'd never needed to confirm her words; he would be confirmation enough, whether he wanted to or not. His jaw tightened, the muscle in his face spasmed and that right there was all the acknowledgment she needed to know she had predicted his actions correctly.

"It's done," she told him, before turning to the metacrisis at her side, "there's nothing you can do. Either of you. They will never hurt me again, trust me."

A bitter laugh came from the half-human Doctor and the full Time Lord pressed a kiss to her forehead, a wry smile on his lips.

"Rose Tyler." Her name was spoken with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "How does every conversation with you go so pear-shaped? I'm pretty sure that I am meant to reassure you that this won't be happening again..."

The smile on his face faded, replaced by earnestness and a fierceness that took her breath away. "And it won't. I won't let it, not ever. I will always watch over you, I will never let you out of my sight again and I will not ever leave you unprotected. Never again!"

His eyes were firm and she knew he believed, at least for the moment, fully in what he was saying but she couldn't help but smile sadly in response.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Doctor."

First he looked confused but then hurt took its place, his brown eyes filled with it as he looked at her, looking so lonely she wished she'd held back and not told him what she thought.

"You don't believe me." he breathed, his words both a question and a statement all at once and she knew she'd hurt him – though that hadn't been her intention, had never been what she wanted.

"I'll always trust you, Doctor," she tried to reassure him but he shook his head in denial and her body tensed as he removed his hands from her, leaving her longing for him though she refused to admit it, refused to show him just how much she needed his support right now.

"No, no, you don't. You just said-"

"I know what I said," Rose cut him off, the tiniest stirrings of anger inside her at his callous disregard for her emotions, "all I'm saying is that you can't control the universe – not this one and not the next. You can't assure me that nothing will happen to me, because it very well could. And I have never asked you to lie to me and I'm not starting now. I know reality, I know the dangers of this life, of our life, and I refuse to be coddled or sheltered. So no, you cannot promise me that this will never happen again."

There was a finality to her words and both Doctors were staring at her, looking confused and upset but, above all else, they looked at her in awe, an emotion she didn't know how to place. Her heart was still angry, her body still felt bereft of his touch and the Tardis was still urging her to talk with her, so Rose didn't take the time to find out what he was thinking, didn't take the time to think over her words and just told him what she felt, what she had wanted from him.

"However, what you could have promised me is that you will do your best to ensure this never happens, and that is all I would ever ask from you. I would never ask you to keep me safe – I'd probably hate that, actually – and neither would I ever ask you to ensure my survival or my health above everyone else's. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again; if it comes down to a choice of me or the world, me or the universe, I'd always want you to choose them. I know, I know, you'll find at least a hundred different ways other than following someone's ultimatum, but if you can't, if there is nothing else, then I would never want you to choose me. The universe needs the Doctor and however much I want to stay at your side, we both know that all I can ever give you is as much of my forever as I have."

Rose sighed, looking at them both as she stood up, knowing they both needed time to work through her words and the Tardis still wanted to talk to her; enough dilly dallying. Wiping away at the faint tear tracks on her cheeks, she slowly walked away, back towards the entrance of the library before looking back at them. She refused to let them see just how weak she still felt, how he'd reminded her just how broken she truly was, how much of herself she'd lost. Only she didn't want to part in anger so she gave them a tentative smile instead.

"But, just for the record, I do trust you and someday, once we've talked a lot more, I'll will also let you into my mind. Just not now, not today."

With that she stepped out and found herself right in front of the console room, the ship telling her wordlessly just how impatient she was to talk with her. With a last regretful sigh, Rose stepped through the door, the doors shutting behind her and locking, leaving her alone in the empty console room. The time rotors hummed slightly and she found herself patting the corals slightly in greeting as she sought out the pilot seat.

"So... is this about his goodbye in 2005?"

---

Rose Tyler.

A woman who confounded him, confused him and left him flabbergasted all-too-often for him to be comfortable with. Supposedly she was merely human which, as far as Time Lords were concerned, roughly equalled apes for humans.

She shouldn't have been capable of half the things she was capable of and she shouldn't have known most of things she did and yet here she was. A conundrum, a mystery and had she not demonstrated her selflessness at every turn he might have been far more suspicious of her. Except Rose truly was one of the most compassionate people he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, finding it in her heart to even forgive her worst enemy, gifted with an uncanny ability to understand emotions that eclipsed, he thought at times, even his own knowledge of the rest of the universe. She was young, incredibly young, not just for her species but to the rest of the universe and yet she was wise beyond her years, understanding things he had never before put into words and yet she just knew and she forgave beyond what anyone as empathic as her should have been able to.

Were he a philosopher rather than a scientist, he might have likened her soul to a bright shining light and everyone else to darkness, because no one had ever made him feel as she did, no one, or so he had thought, would ever be able to grant him forgiveness and no one would ever be able to know him and love him. She had done all of the above and more. Her love was a bright, shining light, a haven and sanctuary to him and she was his beacon, his way of finding a way back to himself. In all his years, he had never met anyone like her, nor, he suspected, would he ever again.

And someone had violated her, violated her trust, her mind, the very essence of all that she was. He now wished, dearly, that he had bonded to her for, though the pain of separation would've amplified exponentially, she would've been safe, would've been claimed, her mind under his protection. But he'd left her wide open and someone had found her, someone had attacked her and ripped her apart.

And somehow, someway and he dreaded to think of how it came to be, she had put herself back together, slowly, agonisingly, until it became night imperceptible and even he had dismissed it, had noticed her differences – of course he had – but attributed them to time apart. Not this, never this.

He wanted to believe that they had only been in her mind for a moment, just ripped one memory away from her but he knew her too well for that. Rose would fight, she'd fight tooth and nail, especially if she thought she'd put him in danger; more than once she'd even gone up against him when she thought he shouldn't know something. He trusted her, trusted her judgment, but now it seemed that very trust, his confidence in her, had betrayed her, had caused others to seek her out for all the knowledge he had confided in her. And they would've had to hurt her, hurt her a lot and he knew that a battle of the minds could bring about the fiercest of agony, a pain that would not be soothed as there was no physical wound to heal.

He wondered if that scar at her neck had been their doing as well and he couldn't help but allow his own mind to wander, just for a moment, allowing himself to imagine just what pain he'd visit upon them if he ever found out who had done this to the woman he loved.

It was one thing he'd never even wished upon Davros, who was, arguably, his worst enemy and to have it happen to someone he loved, someone who had been so open, so refreshingly honest to the world at large, tore both his hearts into pieces. Rose should never have had to suffer through it; he didn't know how she'd even recovered, how she had managed to seem so normal, so unaffected, how she trusted him at all.

He hadn't intended to, had, in fact, intended to steer well clear of her temples for the next few months, but when she'd told him she trusted him, when she'd bared her neck and offered him herself without words, eyes closed, he had to find out if there was a chance, any chance at all, she'd do the impossible once more and would, eventually, come to trust him enough to let him into her mind.

And so his hand had gone further up and rested against her temples for a moment; she'd tensed, of course she'd tensed, but she hadn't moved away, hadn't refused his touch or even flinched and his hearts had jumped with joy at the clear – and unbelievably high – level of trust he couldn't believe himself deserving of but had nevertheless wanted, almost demanded from her. And she had given it to him. Freely. As Rose always seemed to.

But he had wanted her to relax again, wanted her to lean into his touch as she had before only this time, with his fear gone, he saw the rapid heaving of her chest, the pulse at her neck in clear view with her neck angled to the side and he noted the surprisingly fast pace of her heart; for a moment he'd worried it had been in fear. But then he'd touched her skin again and focused on the influx of hormones, noticed the slight sheen of perspiration, the gentle biting of her bottom lip, the way she responded to his touch, his movement, and his alarm faded as recognition set in.

Desire.

Lust.

Something he'd felt around Rose Tyler too often to be seemly and he hadn't thought that in a moment like this he could ever be made to respond in kind, but apparently he hadn't taken his sheer attraction to the beautiful blonde in his lap into account, because he found out he definitely could be convinced to set most other things aside and concentrate on far more pleasurable pursuits which he hadn't dabbled in for centuries – nor had he, until now, felt such an acute desire to.

It had taken a lot more concentration than it should have to restrain himself – which was helped by the fact that there was another him just a few inches to his side, just as intent on Rose and, well, that was not something he would ever even contemplate. With the cold reminder of his metacrisis, his hormones abated and other emotions arose in him again, regaining control. Still, he wished he could have at least granted Rose that one nonverbal plea, a silent request that he forget, that he make her forget, even just for a moment, but he could not follow it, could not give her what she wanted.

Someone had hurt her, his Rose Tyler, someone under his protection, and he would not let a crime so heinous go unpunished, would not leave her to fear their retribution or their return, afraid until the end of her days.

Except she knew him too well, could read everything he said and didn't say and refused to tell him, to give him their name, the name of their species and he was scared of pushing her too far, afraid of hurting her when all he wanted was to help her.

The Doctor had been wrong, he knew, to ever question her trust in him. Had she not, just moments before, proven just how much she trusted him by allowing him near her temples, near her mind, just a breath away from somewhere others had taken advantage of her? There was no justification he could make to explain it, but in that short moment, he genuinely had doubted, had questioned it, had felt hurt by the loss.

And he didn't know what had made him, after nearly two millennia of travel, after learning the painful lesson of never making promises you had no hope of keeping, do just that? Rose was right; he couldn't promise her total safety or protection, he couldn't even promise her old age or that she'd never have to suffer another attack on her person – he could only ever promise his best; and his best was pretty damn good and had been, when he was with her at least, enough to keep her safe... well, mostly safe. A few scratches and bruises, but she'd survived so far. So what had made him suddenly want to promise her the impossible?

He knew why, of course he knew, though he loathed to admit it. Rose Tyler was his weakness and his strength; with her he felt as though everything was possible and she defied logic, time and again, and his hearts had burnt with the need for revenge, the need to keep her safe, always, from everyone, and so he had spoken without thought, without consideration, wanting to reassure her, wanting her to know that he would never allow anything like that to ever happen to her again, whether it was a promise he could make or not had not mattered to him in that moment.

But he shouldn't have questioned her trust, he shouldn't have removed his hands from her, no matter what. She'd needed his support, his trust, had needed him to step up and help her and he'd faltered, had hesitated when she needed him most because he had forgotten that though she always helped him, always found just the right thing to say to quell his conscience, this time it had been his turn to heal her not the other way around. Unfortunately the realisation had come too late.

She'd stood up and she'd left, her words telling him she forgave him even if her heart would take a bit longer to follow suit. Always forgiving him, even when he had all but abandoned her in her hour of need. He'd make it up to her, of course he would, and he'd explain, he'd be supportive. This time he would earn her forgiveness rather than merely accepting what she offered him unquestioningly every time; he wanted to show her he genuinely regretted his actions and his rash words in that moment, wanted her to understand that in the future, she could rely on him and he would support her; that he wouldn't waver again.

"You do realise that I will be the one helping her with this, not you, right?"

The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he glanced at his metacrisis. Did the other man really think he'd just give her up, give up Rose Tyler? No way. She needed him; and not just because his telepathic capabilities far exceeded those of his human self, though that was definitely one of the arguments in his favour. Not that he was evaluating it seriously; after all what could a his half-human self offer her that he couldn't? ... Oh. Half-human. But of course.

"What do you mean?" he asked nevertheless, refusing to let the other man se that he had just realised what his metacrisis was betting on.

"She's human. I'm human, or at least partly human. Don't tell me it hasn't occurred to you; I know it has. Human life. The slow path. You've thought about it, I know you have, because so have I. She has made us think that the slow path wouldn't be too bad, that maybe life with her, even without a Tardis, would be bearable. Well, it's time to put that to the test. There's two of us and only one of her. I know you can make the calculations... Doctor."

The tinge of sarcasm in his moniker didn't go unnoticed, but he ignored it because the other man was right. He had thought about it before, had pushed it aside, content to ignore it for it was a match he was unlikely to win. The Doctor, for all his impressiveness, couldn't change himself, his biology – well, he could, but she wouldn't want him to, not if the cost was the universe or the Tardis. So he couldn't give her the slow life, could never give her his forever, his choice taken from him before he ever had the chance to make it. She'd said she was content with this life in the Tardis, enjoyed it even, but what about in five years or ten? In twenty? What about when she couldn't run anymore? When her speed would hamper their escapes and spell their death?

He was the Doctor, he had a ship that was sentient and could travel throughout all of time and space, he was a Time Lord, of superior biology and with senses and skills few ever dared dream of and a mind most could scarcely comprehend. And yet his half-human self, with no ship, no access to space or time travel, a mortal life and relatively short lifespan was still a better match for her; a compromise where at least one of him would have her, even if it was never him, even if he never got to experience that joy, never got to see her light up, that other him would. And he'd make sure she was happy; because that other man, that other him, he wouldn't have to worry about the universe or about timelines, unlike himself. His other self would be able to devote himself entirely to her, to making Rose Tyler laugh instead of cry, to supporting her, making the rest of her life as joyous as he could.

But it hurt, an almost physical agony that threatened to render his two hearts into four, tearing him apart and he closed his eyes to hold it at bay, refusing to let his other self see though he had to know how much pain he was in. It was why he'd given him so much time with her, why he'd allowed the Time Lord to be the one to touch her, to soothe her, to ask her for those words from the beach.

"I can't," he admitted finally, voice strangled. He couldn't bring himself to give her up. Despite Rose's words, he felt like he needed her just as much as he needed the air in his lungs and the hearts in his chest; there was no way he could give her up. Giving her up would be to ask him to tear one of his hearts out of his chest and to give it away, to send it off to he-knew-not-where and even if he did that, even if he managed to send her away, thinking it was for her own good, he would never be able to stop himself from checking in on them, from looking her up, from seeing her, even at a distance, making sure she was happy and seeking out contact with her at every turn.

"That's why you will have to drop us off in Pete's world," this time his metacrisis sounded almost compassionate, undoubtedly understanding exactly what he was asking of him.

But it was too much. If he left her there, in that other world, he would never know, would never find out, if she truly was happy. What if something happened to his metacrisis? What if she was left alone again? What if... What if she preferred his human self to his Time Lord one? What if she secretly longed for a family, a life with a white picket fence?

Oh, he knew they were still not biologically compatible – not without a lot of tinkering, at least – and a part of him truly regretted that; Jenny had, after all, turned out beautifully and though before he'd met her he had never wanted them, now he couldn't help but long for them. Naturally conceived, beautiful children of Rose Tyler. He didn't even know if she wanted children. And yet he couldn't help but think of what a wonderful mother she would make and he wanted to see her, could imagine her, pregnant, her stomach attractively rounded, her eyes aglow with an inner light and her entire body radiant in its beauty just as he could imagine her, smiling, hand in hand with a smaller version of Jenny, their daughter; feisty, independent and incredibly clever.

His human self would at least have a chance of that if he tweaked it just right; though, to be fair, he'd never looked at their chances of compatibility or Rose's ability to conceive before, content to leave it to this dreams rather than force his imaginings under the harsh light of reality where they would have undoubtedly withered and died.

"Remember, you still have to marry River Song," the metacrisis reminded him and he looked up, startled.

When Rose's return had still been impending, before he had a half-human version of himself to contend with, he'd thought about, had figured that he would do anything to stop himself from marrying River Song; after all, why would he ever marry anyone else when he could have Rose?

But therein lay the problem and the solution, heartbreaking though it was. He would never marry River Song as long as he was with Rose. Nothing could make him or force him to do that. Except what if he didn't have Rose at his side? What if he had no hope of her ever returning to him? What then, if there was no other choice, would he marry the other woman? The answer was yes, though he hated himself for even admitting that much. But if Rose wasn't there, if Rose was outwith his grasp and he knew her to be happily wed to his other self – who would, undoubtedly, tell her his name – he could marry River Song if there was no other alternative to be found.

He didn't contemplate even falling in love with her though he knew it was not fully out of the question; but right now he doubted he would ever be able to feel the same as he had for Rose for River. Rose and Jenny had carved their way into his hearts and he could not give that part of himself to anyone else, couldn't imagine anyone else ever being able to make his way past all the formidable walls he'd erected around himself the same way Rose had slipped past.

But the timelines were set.

River Song perished in the library.

And River Song knew his true name.

Which meant that, ultimately, Rose would not be at his side. And since even different universes would not keep her away, the only way to would be to offer her a part of himself, a mostly human one. His metacrisis.

"You can't ask me to give up Rose Tyler!" he denied sharply, "you know who she is, what she is to us! To me!"

Intimidation didn't work, he found, when it was his other self, someone who knew him intimately, knew the way his mind worked, his every thought and impulse, his feelings. He'd never felt so bare and couldn't help but view the other as an enemy, someone intent on taking the one he loved from him.

"Yes," the short one worded admission took the wind momentarily out of his sails before he gathered himself again.

"I can't give her up. You can't ask me to. I'll figure something out for River."

"You won't, you can't, because you don't know the circumstances yet."

"Then I'll figure them out!" he roared in anger but the metacrisis didn't flinch, didn't even blink and he hated it, constantly feeling like he was on the edge, on the losing side just moments from being forced to give in.

"You saw," the Time Lord tried again, in a calmer tone, "what happened to her over there. You cannot mean to bring her back to that world."

"Trust me," the other man's voice was dark, foreboding, and the metacrisis had clenched his fists, his entire body under tension as anger rose in them both at the memory of what had happened, "I will find them and they will pay."

That, at least, was something they could both agree on. No one harmed Rose Tyler. No one.

"She needs a telepath," he asserted, his eyes searching out the other man.

"She does. And if I can't help her, I will find someone I can trust."

"Not good enough. I can help her. I'm the only one I trust to go into her mind."

His metacrisis nodded slightly at that, as if agreeing that he, too, would find it hard to trust anyone else.

"There's not enough time before the walls close. You know that." He did, of course he did. That's why he'd said it; Rose did need a telepath and he truly didn't trust anyone else with a mind as brilliant and delicate as hers, but more than that, it gave him an advantage over the other man, a reason for why she should stay with him.

"Just like you know what you have to do," the half-human Doctor finished and then with a curt nod left him to himself in the library.

The moment the doors closed themselves, the Time Lord punched the wall, an almost human response to his rage which most of his kind would've turned their nose up.

He found he didn't care.

For the first time, he genuinely regretted not having been born on her planet, not being able to meet Rose the more traditional way, court her in any which way she wanted and spend his life with her.

Because, right now, he stood to lose it all, everything, just because he was the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, bound to save the universe above everything – and everyone – else until the very last of his regenerations ran out.

Alone. Always alone.

---

Rose sighed and leaned back against the pilot's chair, unnameable dread curling inside her.

"So you want me to look at the timelines?" she questioned, hesitating, because though she knew not what she might find, she was afraid of what it might mean for her.

The Tardis hummed a warning and at the unrelenting note in her friend, Rose stopped dawdling, knowing she did not have much choice, not unless she truly wanted to approach a fixed point in time without any knowledge of how it came to be.

So, with another deep sigh, she relaxed back, hearing and feeling the grating falling open though she no longer needed the ship's aid to reach for the time vortex. Her time in the other universes had taught her a lot of things, but more than anything else, she'd learnt about time.

Only it was different being back in her own universe, reaching out for a time stream she belonged to; it recognised her as a part of itself, its power stroking her almost lovingly, like a silent welcome as she gave herself over to it, her entire body humming as she was suffused in the golden light, her aching body healing as the artron particles in her cells were flooded with energy. Eyes closed, Rose leaned back, allowing herself a moment which felt like an eternity to bask in the timelessness, the strength of which no human could ever hope to fully grasp, before focussing back on the task.

Rose allowed her barriers around her mind to fall, one by one, for the first time in decades...

And then she saw.

What had happened, what would happen, what must always happen...

A moment later she stumbled to her feet, eyes wide and grasping blindly at the console.

"No," a breathless whisper, a hopeless denial of reality, which bore no fruit. The Tardis hummed mournfully, confirming what she already knew to be true.

But it couldn't be, not after everything, all that she'd gone through.

Except it was time. It wasn't malicious or vicious; in fact, it had no intent at all, it simply was. And, above all else, it didn't lie. It was truth. It was fact.

Her hold on the console faltered, her knees crumbling away beneath her and she hit the grating with a loud thud but took no notice of the pain. The agony in her heart, in her mind, by far eclipsed any physical pain for her to be aware of anything but what she'd seen.

Through decades and decades, battling, fighting, living, surviving, travelling through one dimension after another, losing friends and family and making new ones, building a new one, only to lose it all over again; all to find her way back to him, to the man she loved.

And it had all been for naught.

And for the first time, she had no way of fighting, had no strength left in her to battle against the inevitable, the impossible.

There was no anger, no rage or fear she could use to turn into a strength. There was no emotion at all. Only the bitter cold understanding that after everything she'd lost, everything she'd sacrificed, now it was time to pay the price for all the mistakes she'd made along the way.

There was no hope, none at all.

And for the very first time in decades and decades of fighting her way back to the Doctor, of being met with impossible odds and frightening enemies with no weapons, no plan and no backup, she surrendered. For the very first time in her life, Rose Tyler abandoned all hope, all her strength lost, her will as broken as her faith.

There was nothing she could do.

For the universe to live, Rose Tyler must die.

She'd claimed with the Doctor that she always wanted him to pick the universe and now, it seemed, it was time to prove that she stood by her words. Rose didn't cry, she didn't sob, her eyes empty and dry as she shakily forced herself to stand.

There were still things to be done, things she had to say if she didn't want the Doctor to ever find out the truth.

He could never know that he had, however unknowingly, sent her to her death. It would kill him.

She had done the calculations, had looked, in a panic, for any alternative, any way out; Rose had, rather stupidly, thought that maybe if she lived on Earth or on another planet she could escape her fate, that maybe she could circumvent it. But she couldn't. She had to leave this entire universe behind her or she would be single-handedly responsible for its destruction.

And a return to Pete's world would inevitably mean her imminent demise. The walls between the dimensions were already closing, one by one, and she wouldn't be able to leave her world. The Tardis had shown her, had shown her all the possibilities, all of them ending with either the death of every living thing in this universe – including her friends, the ship and her Doctor – or her death. She would have to take solace in the fact that if she died, her family in both universes and the Doctor, both of them, would still live at least.

Her hands trembled, but she didn't have time to break down, no time to mourn, to think.

Messages for the Doctor needed to be recorded. He must never know.

Never.

---

Okay, yes, I know, you're all going to hate me, but I do promise that Rose and Eleven will be together. It will just be a little bit further away than I made you all believe *whistle innocently* And no, I've not been conspiring with my wonderful beta about our evil plots (Hush!) or laughing maniacally to myself as I deliberately phrased things in a certain way to leave people with the impression that beach 2nd time around wouldn't happen (*muahaha*). Anyway, I do hope you still enjoyed it and I promise it's not the end yet. Still probably only half-way actually.

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Thank you to all my beloved reviewers – your responses are below:

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greeneyesCutie

Hi again and thanks for the lovely review. I'm glad you loved Martha and agreed, she is a bit flat, unfortunately, in the TV series. Definitely congrats to my beta; couldn't have done it without her. Or, well, I could have but the end result would never have been this; I was so sick and tired of Martha I was ready to saddle you guys with one-dimensional, jealous wicked-witch Martha rather than, well, an actual person.

Ha, that's what you think! It's not me, unfortunately. It's Rose and the Doctor, those two just sorta... write themselves. And get out of hand. In a good way, I agree, but I unfortunately I cannot claim the glory for this as it's not because I sit down and think really hard about the chapter or anything, I just write what I think will be a short lead in – i.e. they went to bed and then the next morning this happened – instead, seven thousand words later and the night's only just barely turning into morning and I still haven't managed to say what I wanted to. Sorry, had to rant about it because I think I said a couple of chapters back that I thought we were a quarter of the way? Yeah, no way. I think it'll take me a bit longer, unfortunately / luckily.

Ah, nope. Sorry. Would love to, but not yet... but maybe a bit sooner than you'd think... Okay, that probably made no sense, sorry about that. And I know what you mean about needing him to tell her.

Clara won't happen in this story. Sorry. I just love her too much and I can't stomach her and Rose. I love them both with the Doctor but with different Doctors in a way, if that makes sense. Sorry!

Anywho, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and you're not too mad. I do promise a reunion with Eleven. I'd love to hear from you!

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pyro-pixiechik

Hi to you too and thank you very much for your review and compliments. May I also say that I love your nickname especially in relation to a job at a restaurant *lol*

Also rather impressed with your speed in catching up on Doctor Who. I admit I only started last year. Love the 4th Doctor though (Tom Baker) with Sarah Jane. He is brilliant! Jellybaby anyone?

Well, here's a small snippet of revelation between the two – in the above chapter – and he will find out more through other people, but not yet. I do hope you enjoyed Jack above and I would love to hear from you again and see what you think of recent developments. I promise a reunion with Eleven.

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Kylaia78

Yay! Thank you very much for your review. I'm glad you enjoyed it and I would love to hear from you again. I definitely promise a reunion with Eleven.

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msschaller99

Thanks! Lovely to hear from you again and thank you for your review. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and, as always, I would really love to hear from you again.

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50penny

First, thank you so much for your review and secondly, Ooh, very well played. Of course I don't want you to tone it down. I love the praise, I live for the praise! Gimme more!

Thanks for the compliments with regards to Martha; I never could quite grow to like her mainly because they put her in a bad light and showed her rather one-dimensionally and jealous, so I'm glad you enjoyed my Martha (read: Martha as I would have liked her to have been / envision her to be).

Yay! I loved writing the fishfingers and custard bit. That was so much fun! I hope you enjoyed Jack!

Hopefully I have not made you despair too badly with the end of this chapter; if so, fear not, a reunion will take place with Eleven and Rose. That's what I've been headed for all this time. I would really love another review from you!

Yep, agreed. Sherlock is amazing. And the Forever fanfics are unfortunately rather rare. Did you ever watch House M.D.? I enjoyed that show. And Broadchurch, though admittedly that's mainly due to David Tennant and my own ideas about a Rose/Broadchurch crossover. Or a Rose/Sherlock crossover – there are some brilliant ones out there for this! Though I admit I only like the ones where she has no choice of ever returning to the Doctor; otherwise I can't see her ever turning to someone else.

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cecilehem

Yay, glad you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for your review.

I'm glad you enjoyed Martha; I'm afraid there was no peaking in the first draft; Martha was rather confrontational and out-and-out jealous. Hence the change in plot, location, character and dialogue... well, everything actually. Lol.

Thanks for all the compliments on Martha's character. I agree, I don't think it's out of character but definitely not a nice thing to do. But all the companions are inevitably, insatiably curious. What can you do when the man won't say a thing?

Rose doesn't expect a relationship between three people, she accepts that she loves the Doctor, whichever form he may be in. But that still means a solution needs to be found and, as you can read in the above chapter, has been found.

I hope this chapter which had some of Rose's POV in it, clarified how she managed to hide them and that she hasn't hidden them all that well from the Doctor or Jack, but that the Doctor is content to pretend for the moment and Jack is trying to figure out more information and waiting for the Doc to catch up.

Yay, glad you liked my secret I love you plan from the Doctor. This one had a bit more fluff and stuff in it, so despite all the sad bits, I do hope you enjoyed it.

I would love to hear what you think of Jack and recent developments. Again, I do promise a reunion with Eleven. Please review again :)

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mariontyler

Hi! Thank you very much for your review. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and hope this one lives up to expectation as well. I hope this chapter also clarified Rose's perspective and why it wasn't OOC – or, at least, I hope it wasn't.

I'm not entirely sure how many chapters. All I can tell you is that I thought the last four chapters and what I suspect will be another two from hereon in, I thought would be wrapped up in 2 chapters total; that gives you an idea of my planning, doesn't it? I have the whole plot outlined but tiny scenes which I'd never planned on keep sneaking their way in and prolonging the story past where I thought I'd be. We're less than half way, I'd guess.

Anywho, I would love to receive another review and hope you're not to disappointed with the new turn of events. I do promise a reunion between Eleven and Rose.

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Marcela

Thank you for your review!

No! That would be cruel. Besides, remember that she cannot survive in Pete's world... Actually, not sure if that's any less cruel, but there you go.

Yay, glad you enjoyed the fishfingers and custard; that was so much fun to write. Unfortunately for you, I am rather evil *muahaha* but I do promise a reunion between Rose and Eleven. I hope you'll stick with me and I'd love to receive a review from you again.

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Seralina

Thank you very much for your review.

Can I just say, I loved your phrasing about being a peeper to see that affection. I know, I love the love that I imagine between them; not one based on needing or dependency, but one based on actual love, actual giving and aiding one another through life, supporting rather than betraying.

Not quite at the return point yet but you can see where things are headed. I promise there will be a reunion between her and Eleven, so please don't despair! So sorry about this twist and I do hope you're not horribly upset. The next chapter will clarify everything in a lot more detail.

Thank you for the praise. I hope you stick with me and this story and I'd love a review from you.

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Maria EduardaB

Thank you very much for your comment. I promise a reunion with Eleven later on. I hope you'll keep reading and reviewing!

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paradiso31

Yay! Thank you so much for your review. I loved giving Rose that as comfort food; connecting her and eleven together is, after all, my end goal so the reunion will show a lot of how he's missed her as well. Anywho, I hope you're not too disappointed by this chapter and I hope you'll stick with me! Please review!

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Guest - Silvay

Thank you for both reviews and *lol* I didn't know MA stands for mobile app. Thanks for pointing that out! Agree, autocorrect sucks and phones keep jumping left and right and everywhere. I cannot write one good email due to that problem on my phone either.

I am very glad you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for all the praise (gimme more!). I know, I know, I'm sorry, I do hope all the moments in this chapter made up for it a bit, but Beach second time around still has to happen. Sorry. I do promise a reunion with Eleven, despite how unlikely it may seem at this precise moment and I hope the chapter above clarified that the Doctor is less than enthusiastic about letting her go at all but nevertheless thinks it needs to be done.

I would love to hear from you again! I hope you'll still keep reading and reviewing.

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XSunshine95X

Thank you so much for your review and yes, your anxiety does make sense. You'll see how she survives or lives as at the moment I'm not at liberty to reveal anything unless you want the plot spoiled. But I do promise the reunion with Eleven and a happy ever after, even if it takes some time and a lot of healing. So glad you enjoyed my writing so far and I do hope you'll keep reading (and reviewing).

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SassyFrassKerr

Yay, I thought I'd lost you. I'm glad to see (hear?) you're still reading and hope I've not disappointed you with the latest chapter.

I love your summary of the Tardis' denial, brilliant! The comfort food was incredible fun to write, I assure you, especially his reactions to it.

... Ah, crux of the problem. As you can see, what you dreaded might happen will actually come to pass (Bad Wolf Bay, second time around) but I do promise a reunion between Eleven and Rose.

No kisses yet, sorry. Oops, did I give something away here *wink innocently*

I am glad you enjoyed Martha and hope you enjoy Jack just as much. There was a bit of fluff in this chapter with lots of tears but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless and I hope you'll stick with me even though Bad Wolf Bay takes place again. I would love to receive another review from you and hear your thoughts on this chapter!