AN: Parts of the summary were shamelessly plucked from Prison Break, I'm willing to admit.
Anyway, I've been listening to the new TS album, and two songs in particular inspired this story: "Down Bad" and "I Hate It Here." Lyrics from both songs are used as subheadings through the work. I highly recommend listing to them - and TTPD as a whole.
This fic aligns with canon (sorry) and tags several episodes: The Christmas Invasion, New Earth, School Reunion, Doomsday, and Journey's End. You'll probably notice dialogue taken straight from those episodes. After that, I continue through their lives with my own plot points.
It's not a happy one. You have been warned.
Despite that, I hope you enjoy! (I crossposted this on A03, so if you prefer to read it there, here's the link: /works/56144032#main)
For a moment, I was heaven struck.
"First things first: how do I look?"
Mesmerizing was the first word that came to mind. But she couldn't say that aloud – especially not in front of Mickey, and the Prime Minister, and, in fact, an entire alien race. Now certainly wasn't the time. "Different," was what Rose settled on. Which was technically accurate; he did have a completely different face.
It was a good different, too. Not that the old face had been bad. This face was just… different. Rose didn't feel like she could (or should) compare the two. Underneath, it was still the same man – and that's what mattered most. But as he swept around the room and rambled and engaged in an impromptu sword fight, Rose kept coming back to the same thought: man, was this a good different. And no matter what, yes, he was still the Doctor – always.
Later that night, when he turned up at her flat in a snazzy new suit, Rose couldn't help her approving smile. (He smiled back, and something in her chest melted and plopped down into her stomach, warm and secure.) Charming, dashing, and clever were a couple more words she came up with during dinner. But again, she kept them to herself.
Then, they were standing outside – shoulder-to-shoulder – and Rose wondered if it was his body heat passing over to her, or if she was the one blushing warmly. (It was her. It was always her. His average body temperature was much lower than that of humans. Rose still liked to believe he got flushed, though.) He was pointing up at the sky, at their next million adventures, and she'd never felt more content.
That was, until they found themselves in that fateful hospital on New Earth. She might not have been in control, but the minute Cassandra passed into the Doctor, Rose felt the ghost of his lips against hers. In a way, she was grateful to Cassandra; she'd done something that Rose was never brave enough to do. More exciting, still, was how he reacted. Namely, that he didn't pull away. The Doctor seemed as awestruck by the kiss as Rose. When Cassandra pulled back, Rose remembered seeing the dumbfounded look on his face. (She liked that expression on this new face. He always looked so cute when he was flustered.) Perhaps he didn't know what to say or how to react, but the giddy delight was there behind his eyes, nonetheless.
They never talked about it, but they never needed to. Rose cherished the memory of his soft lips and gentle expression, and it was enough for her. The feelings crackling between them didn't need to be dissected and analyzed. They just were. The Doctor and Rose: forever. They knew what they meant to each other, and that became more evident with each passing day.
Yes, this new Doctor was a very good different.
Did you really beam me up - in a cloud of sparkling dust - just to do experiments on, tell me I was the chosen one?
Show me that this world is bigger than us - then sent me back where I came from?
"How many of us have there been, traveling with you?" Rose scurried along as she spoke, struggling to keep up with the Doctor's long strides.
He gave her a cursory glance over his shoulder. "Does it matter?"
Oh, that blasé attitude of his made her blood boil. "Yeah, it does – if I'm just the latest in a long line."
The Doctor pivoted to face her, stopping them both in theirs tracks. "As opposed to what?" The hard edge in his voice had Rose looking at him in shock. He maintained his intense stare.
Rose couldn't believe what she was hearing. What a callous jerk. After everything they'd been through, it was like the Doctor held no care or concern for her whatsoever. This was a version of him she didn't recognize. Was it all a façade up until now? Had Rose really misread the situation so significantly?
"I thought you and me were… well, I've obviously got it wrong." Rose cursed herself for the falter in her voice. This wasn't the time for sadness; it was a time for anger. That was decidedly what the Doctor deserved right now - biting words instead of watery eyes. "I've been to the year five billion, right? But this – now this is really seein' the future: you just leave us be'ind."
He had the decency to lower his gaze, grief-stricken. Good.
"Is that what you're gonna do to me?" Rose pressed on with her interrogation. There was no point in continuing to travel with him if she was destined to end up like Sarah Jane. Rose needed these answers – now.
"No. Not to you," was his fierce, immediate response. The Doctor's eyes were back on her now, burning with purpose.
Rose's anger was shifting into disbelief. "But, Sarah Jane; you were that close to 'er once. Now- you never even mention her. Why not?"
"I don't age." Again, the Doctor jumped in with a quick reply. His eyes seemed to darken along with his mood. What was usually a warm mahogany now appeared to be bitter chocolate. "I regenerate. But humans decay. You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone who you-" He choked on the words.
"What, Doctor?" she prompted, expression now just an intense as his.
He swallowed whatever he was going to say, but the implication was obvious. (Unless this was just something else Rose was misreading.) Instead, he took a different – perhaps more detached - approach. "You can spend the rest of your life with me… but I can't spend mine with you. I have to live on – alone."
His voice was surprisingly emotional, and things finally clicked for Rose. The blithe mask was just that – a mask. The Doctor did care – but perhaps too much. He was stuck in an impossible situation: unable to be in love forever, but also incapable of being alone forever. His loneliness was so suffocating that he constantly sought out companions to travel with. But then the attachment grew too strong, and he had to sever the cord – lest it be severed without his consent at some future time. The Doctor wanted to have control over his heartbreaks.
Rose understood that, to a certain degree. She (despite setting out to be cross with him) empathized with his plight. The Doctor didn't deserve this. His intentions were pure, at the end of the day. He wanted what everyone wanted: love. But to acquire it would come at a cost.
And that was about the point where Rose stopped sympathizing with him. Because all love required sacrifice. He may be a Time Lord, but his struggles could be mirrored by humans. One of Rose's mates from secondary school got married to her sweetheart. They were a cute couple, and despite getting together at an early age, their love was robust and mature. Things changed when Sophia's husband – of only two months - was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Six weeks to live. Sophia was faced with a predicament. She could stay with Mark – and therefore be unable to live the rest of her life with him – or she could've cut her loses and walked away. She could've distanced herself immediately so that, at the end of six weeks, his passing wouldn't hit quite as hard.
Sophia did the opposite. They spent the following month and a half fulfilling as many wishes and goals as they could – together. Which meant that, when Mark's time came, Sophia was devastated. But she wasn't going to abandon him, leave him to struggle through the remainder of his short life. Love sets you up for heartache; that's the price you pay.
So, if humans could (and did) make those difficult choices all the time, why couldn't the Doctor? He was much older, which should've made him much wiser. But all Rose heard in this moment was that he wasn't willing to sacrifice for their relationship. Her lifelong happiness came at too steep a price for him. He wasn't protecting them from grief or making things easier - or whatever other valiant justification he could conjure.
The Doctor swooped down to Earth, introduced Rose to the most amazing life, and then refused to let her see it through to the end.
How dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded.
"That's why you've gotta go-" The countdown clock chimed, briefly interrupting his words. Reboot in two minutes. For Rose, it might as well have been counting down to her own execution. "-To Pete's World," the Doctor finished with an air of finality.
Rose stood, shocked, and she wanted to protest so badly. But the horror of the situation had her frozen in fear.
He continued speaking, either oblivious to or purposefully ignoring her anguish. "I'm opening the Void, but only on this side. You'll be safe on that side."
She couldn't be hearing what she was hearing. She couldn't.
More words were exchanged, but Rose only zoned back in to ask a vital question. "But you stay on this side?"
"But you'll get pulled in!" was Mickey's incredulous reply.
Rose didn't bother looking his way. Neither did the Doctor. He stared at her intensely, speaking a thousand silent words. Rose stared right back, daring him to answer her question directly. He never did. Instead, he took the exit provided by Mickey, and galivanted to the back of the room. The Doctor brandished the industrial strength magnets he'd gotten earlier, trying to assure everyone of his safety. (After all, Rose would never leave if she thought he was fated to perish.)
More talking that she didn't hear. Rose's brain was wading through molasses. She moved in a hypnotic state, still trying desperately to grasp the terrible reality that her mind wanted to repress. "I'm s'pposed to go…?"
"Yeah," the Doctor replied with far too much pep. He dropped the magnet with a thud. The sound was heavy and deafening and awful.
But it did jolt Rose back to life. Her words were no longer disoriented inquiries, but edged statements. "To another world, and then it gets sealed off."
His response was the same. "Yeah."
She watched him move to a computer terminal and start typing rapidly. He was ignoring her on purpose. Trying to make it look like this separation wouldn't devastate him. Rose knew better, though. She needed to make him face the situation, face her – the woman he was trying to abandon. The Doctor wasn't allowed to bury his head in the sand, like always. If she had to face this head-on, so did he. She wanted to see how steely his resolve was when he was forced to say it to her face.
"Forever." One word, infinitely powerful.
His eyes darted across the screen as though she'd never spoken.
Fine, then. If he was playing the defensive, she had to play the offensive. With a derisive chuckle, Rose stated, "That's not gonna 'appen."
The building shook with an explosion, and suddenly everything snapped back into action. Pete was primed and ready to leave. He wanted Jackie with him; he wanted her safe – and in any other situation, Rose would've found that heartwarming. All she'd wanted, for so long, was to see her parents together again. But they'd reached a fork in the road. Rose had spent 19 years walking beside her mum – and she wouldn't change it for the world – but things were different, now. Now, Rose had the Doctor to walk beside. Her mum needed to go left, and Rose needed to go right.
She tried to get Jackie to understand that. Especially since time was running out, and she wanted her mother safe, just like Pete. "All the things I've seen 'im do for me, for you, for all of us, for the whole… stupid planet – and every planet out there; he does it alone, Mum. …But not anymore. 'Cause now he's got me." Despite the situation, that statement split her face into a smile. Rose couldn't explain it any other way than saying: they were meant to walk this road together.
There was the slight sound of clinking metal, and suddenly, the Doctor was dropping something chunky around her neck. She pivoted on her heel, but only managed to catch a glimpse of his resigned face. Somewhere behind her, Pete hit a button. Rose's body was overcome by a strange fizzling sensation, and with a bright flash of light, she was teleported to Pete's World.
The shock wore off quicky as she snapped her head this way and that, trying to make sense of what had just happened. When realization finally hit, Rose wanted to scream. She wouldn't stand for this utter nonsense. No. Bloody. Way.
"Oh no, you don't. He's not doin' that to me again." Rose quickly reached down to fiddle with the medallion, before anyone could stop her.
There were a couple buttons along the top, but she had no idea what they were for. Fortunately, she didn't need to. Her first instinct was to slap the thing, and that had the desired effect. More fizzling, another flash, and Rose was back where she was meant to be.
The Doctor wasted no time with preamble. The minute he registered her presence, he surged forward and gripped her arms tightly. "Once the breach collapses, that's it! You will never be able to see her again – your own mother!"
Rose was decidedly calmer than him. His words, while difficult to hear, couldn't sway her. This time, she was the one speaking with finality. "I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never gonna leave you."
He looked at her like she'd grown a second head. (Which perhaps wasn't the best analogy, because the Doctor probably had seen something like that before.) They stared at each other, and Rose made sure her conviction shown through. After a moment of scrutiny, the Doctor realized there was no changing her mind. So, instead, he gave her an assignment. Rose got a quick glance at his face while passing, and to say he looked perturbed would be an understatement. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he didn't want her to stay.
Things were much more complicated than that, though. The Doctor never prioritized himself. He was insistent on protecting everyone else, even if that got him caught in the crossfire. He didn't like to think that he was succeeding off the backs of others' failure. The Doctor didn't think he could be heroic and happy at the same time. Which was rubbish. He didn't need to suffer in order to be able to help people. That was the conflict Rose currently saw on his face.
Nevertheless, when this was all over - once Earth was safe and the two of them were back on the TARDIS - Rose was gonna wring his neck for trying to send her off like that. Only she got to decide how to spend her life. And Rose was not about to be dropped off like Sarah Jane. The Doctor always thought he was keeping their best interests in mind – which was sweet – but his calculation of 'what they needed' was always vastly different from the truth. And the truth was that Rose planned to spend the rest of her life with him.
She would succeed where Sarah Jane had failed. She would put her foot down. She wouldn't settle for whatever crap he left her with. Rose was calling the shots, now. And she decided that they were better together. She wasn't going to let the Doctor sabotage his own happiness, again. He'd already sacrificed enough for the world. They both deserved their happily ever after.
Rose was gonna make sure he finally embraced it.
Staring at the sky, come back and pick me up.
Rose simultaneously felt nothing and everything. Her hopes and dreams seemed to evaporate along with him. She didn't know what to do – with herself, with her life, with all these emotions. She was standing on the precipice of something so unimaginable in its tragedy.
At some point, Jackie had rushed over. Rose didn't register it happening; all she knew was suddenly being wrapped tightly in her mum's arms. Passively, Rose thought the situation was almost ironic - her mother should've been the one overcome by pregnancy-related hormones, but instead, it was Rose who couldn't pull herself together.
Not that anyone expected her to. On the contrary, Jackie kept whispering sentiments of let it all out, sweetheart and it's okay to feel whatever you're feeling. Those words worked wonders when Rose had been dumped by her first boyfriend, but they weren't enough anymore. Not now that Rose knew the deepest, purest, most ceaseless love that any human could possibly imagine. This time, she couldn't say that she was better off without him. She couldn't reason that it never would've worked out, anyway. She couldn't believe that her feelings were juvenile, or temporary, or shallow.
This wasn't secondary school. This was her true, adult life. And the one true love of her adult life had just been stolen from her.
Only a few hours ago, Rose was prepared to leave her mother behind in favor of following that same man across the stars. It was a choice she'd never regretted or hesitated on – not even once. She'd fought so hard to stay with him, to take charge of her own future. All that fight, all that willpower, just to end up exactly where she didn't want to be. What a slap in the face. Rose felt like she'd been spat upon. Their happily ever after was so close – so tantalizingly close – but fate waited until it was within reach before brutally ripping it away.
In a dizzying burst of emotion, Rose's sadness abruptly turned to anger. She wretched herself from her mother's embrace, stalked over to her father – to Pete, the imposter – and began to rage. "Why did you come back?! Why?! You took me away from him! You took me away, an-and I hate you! I hate you for making me live without the Doctor!" Every other word was punctuated by a pound to his chest. Pete stood stock still, taking the blows and looking on the verge of tears.
Jackie rushed over, hugging Rose from behind and trying to pull her away. "Rose! Rose, stop!"
Rose shrieked and sobbed and thrashed in her mum's grasp. She freed herself quickly – on account of her young age and lack of pregnancy - and Jackie feared she would launch herself at Pete, again. Instead, Rose crumpled to the ground, her brief flare of rage vanishing. She continued to cry, body now shaking with the power of her grief.
Jackie immediately dropped down beside her and began stroking Rose's hair. "I know, Darling – I know how awful it is. But, please, don't take it out on Pete." Gently lifting her daughter's face, Jackie entreated Rose's watery eyes to meet hers. "I am so grateful that he went back for you. If he hadn't, I would've really lost you - forever."
Mickey and Pete echoed the sentiment, watching the moment unfold in somber regard.
Rose sniffled. "What's the point, Mum? I either die in the Void, or I continue living with a void inside me!" The sobbing renewed in earnest. Jackie enveloped her in a hug. The soothing gestures and empty platitudes continued. It was another few minutes before Rose could stammer out more words. "I can't-…I can't! I can't live without 'im, Mum – I can't!"
She struggled to fully articulate the depths of her sorrow. Moving on without the Doctor was genuinely unbearable, and her life was crumbling without him. He was her foundation, her structure, her support. Without the Doctor, Rose's life would slowly collapse in on itself like an unstable building. He'd left his mark on everything – on her thoughts, her feelings, her choices, her beliefs, her aspirations, her fears, her opinions. Trying to remove the Doctor from her reality was like removing someone's heart from their chest. That is to say, it made functioning impossible. (Not very many things were impossible with the Doctor, but almost everything was impossible without him.)
But try as she might, Rose was incapable of expressing any of that coherently. The only sentiment – the only thing she needed her family to understand - was that she couldn't. With that voiced, there was nothing more to do than tumble hopelessly back into those miserable cries.
Jackie didn't speak again, choosing instead to support her daughter as she completely broke down. There were a million things she wanted to say, but they all felt insufficient. Jackie decided that what Rose needed most right now was to vent. So, she let her. The boys – apparently coming to the same conclusion - sat down as well, forming a circle of solidarity around Rose. The heat of their proximity should've warmed her frigid skin, but Rose's sorrow blew through her bones like an achingly cold wind – chilling her from the inside out.
Her tears were plentiful enough to fill the ocean, and her wails were louder than the crashing waves. In a last, desperate plea, she turned her face skyward and whispered, "Please come back for me…."
There was no response.
In a field in my same old town, that somehow seems so hollow now.
There were times, when Rose was younger, when she'd dream about being a princess. She imagined living in a castle and spinning around in a frilly ballgown and looking up to a ceiling full of chandeliers. She wanted to ride horses through open fields and be pampered by maids and travel via carriage.
Living with Pete, that dream had nearly become a reality. No, she wasn't living in a castle, but she was living in a mansion. No, she didn't own a frilly ballgown, but she did go on shopping sprees. No, she didn't travel by carriage, but she was driving a BMW gifted to her by Pete. And, yes, she actually did ride horses through open fields. Pete's property was vast and largely undeveloped, so when Jackie mentioned that Rose had been begging for a horse since childhood, he made it happen.
Rose was grateful – really, she was! In many ways, she was living a modern version of her childhood dream. It was just a bit difficult to adjust to, what with the cleaning staff and personal chef and the massive bedroom that she had no idea how to furnish.
Pete was very generous - and earnest - but Rose couldn't help feeling he was overcompensating. His Jackie hadn't died that long ago. But within a few months' time, he suddenly had a new wife (yet the same wife), a fully-grown daughter, and a newborn on the way. Was he trying to fill the void left by his late wife? Was he trying to make up for his counterpart, who left Rose and Jackie alone all those years ago? Rose wondered about these things often. But her mum was the happiest she'd been in years, so Rose decided it was all working towards good.
Which made her constant dissatisfaction that much more shameful.
It was basically the same London she'd always known. Sure, they had more blimps, but that was a small detail. The shellshock didn't come from being in an alternate universe (because the Doctor had desensitized her to so much insanity, by this point), but from the radical change in her life. There was no Rose on this Earth, so it wasn't like she was taking anyone's place. (That was a concern Jackie struggled with from time to time, and Rose was heartbroken for her.) And yet, it still felt like she was living a lie.
The most significant change, however, was suddenly being without the Doctor. Without him, the sky was darker; food was blander; the winters were colder and the summers hotter. Everything was off. Out of sync. Just… wrong. None of the privileges of Pete's lifestyle meant anything if she couldn't share them with the man she loved. This world didn't mean anything without him. Her life didn't mean anything without him.
It all felt so shallow, so empty. She got the feeling this stuff was supposed to cheer her up, to make her happy, but it didn't. No part of her new life could make her feel better about losing the Doctor. All the money in the world couldn't compare to losing him. No amount of goodwill or trips or jokes or comfort or sympathy could make this meaningful for her.
And so, the mansion went unexplored; the BMW went undriven; the clothes remained with tags; the horses remained in the stables. Because as it turned out, her childhood dream manifested as a cruel nightmare.
What if I was in love? What if I can't have us?
…I might just not get up.
"C'mon, Sweetheart – it's a beautiful day outside. We're takin' Tony for a stroll. It'll be his first time at the park; you should be there."
Rose peeked out from under her pillows to look at her mum. Jackie had been trying to drag her out of bed for 15 minutes now. And Rose felt bad – honestly. Tony was just about the cutest thing she'd ever seen, and she wanted to be a good big sister. There wasn't a more wholesome way to spend the day than pushing your baby brother around in his pram. And Jackie was right; it was a beautiful morning. The sky was a shining canary blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds, and the sun shone brightly.
Rose hated it. She hated that, amidst her own personal misery, the world had the audacity to keep spinning. The sky should be a smokey gray, filled with storm clouds and echoing thunder. The rain should be coming down in sheets, drowning everyone's spirits. It was only appropriate, given how tragic her life was. But, instead, people went outside and enjoyed the day. They laughed and chatted and played, all while Rose lay here, miserable. How disrespectful.
It wasn't fair. Rose wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she was too tired. She wanted to smash everything in sight, but she was too weak. She wanted to cry herself into an early grave, but she was too disconnected. These powerful, painful emotions had no proper outlet; so instead, they bounced around inside her, slowly corroding her soul like acid.
The medication hadn't helped, and therapy was rubbish. Her psychiatrist kept trying to tell her that, eventually, this heartbreak would be replaced. That one day, Rose would be able to leave that relationship in the past and look forward. Look forward to new opportunities – possibly to new love. But she didn't understand. No one understood. The Doctor couldn't be replaced. He wasn't one of many fish in the sea; he was the whole bloody ocean. He was the tide and the current and the waves. He was unique, and vital, and irreplaceable.
So, no. Rose didn't want to go outside and feel the sunshine and smile and have a good time. Because, without the Doctor, how could the sun shine? Without the Doctor, what did she have to smile about? Without the Doctor, how could she possibly enjoy anything ever again?
She wanted to lock herself inside her room and rage against the dying of her only light. That was what was appropriate. Rose was in mourning at a funeral that would never end. The love of her life was still as good as dead, regardless of how lovely the flowers looked. So, why bother admiring the flowers at all? Why spend time doing anything that wouldn't somehow help bring the Doctor back?
Expect, there wasn't anything that could bring him back. So, Rose was fated to do nothing. Nothing but waste away.
"Not today, Mum. I'm sorry."
I'm lonely, but I'm good. I'm bitter, but I swear I'm fine.
Eventually, Pete had to issue an ultimatum. He had been incredibly patient and supportive, but life keeps moving – and sometimes we have no choice but to move along with it. Jackie needed help with the baby. Pete still had a full-time job, and now, so did Mickey. Most weekdays, Jackie was left on her own. She couldn't care for a newborn all alone, while also consoling her grieving eldest. Not forever, anyway. So, when Pete saw how his wife was struggling, he dragged Rose from under her sheets and laid it all out. If she wanted to keep living there, rent free, she needed to start contributing to the household.
If he and Jackie expected pushback, they didn't get any. Rose didn't exactly have a renewed zest for life, but she was playing her part. When Jackie needed a shower, she was there to feed Tony. When Jackie needed a nap, she was there to watch after Tony. When Jackie was busy with Tony, she was there to pick up the slack of cooking and cleaning. Technically, it was an improvement, but….
Well, it was complicated. Rose had been feeling guilty for not playing a larger role in Tony's life, so the ultimatum gave her the kick in the pants she needed to make a change. She adored her brother – and her mother – and wanted to support her family. It was the least she could do, given how much Jackie had sacrificed for her. Sure, maybe Rose's life was over, but Tony's was a different story. Tony was that part of life that kept on moving, no matter what. He was sweet and gentle and ever so curious. He was brand new to the world, and he had so much to learn and see. His growth and development couldn't be put on hold for anything or anyone. So, ultimately, he kept her moving forward.
But, at this point, Rose could confidently say that she was living, not for herself, but for her family. She still saw no purpose or point for herself. The Doctor was her life; there was no simpler way to put it. It was an irrefutable fact that she'd had to accept. There was nothing left for her in this world. And, at one point during her twelve-month hermitic episode, she'd wondered about swallowing mass amounts of sleeping pills and drifting away peacefully.
It never went any further than that. Just longing thoughts. Because, soon afterward, her mum always popped into her head. Rose knew how much Jackie loved her – Pete and Mickey, as well, for that matter. She knew it would devastate her mum if she weren't here anymore. Rose couldn't bring herself to seriously consider doing something that would wound her mother so deeply. She didn't want to be the cause of the very same grief she was experiencing, herself.
So, now, she lived to support others. Which, to be fair, wasn't the worst way to exist. Tony was precious and adorable, and being here to see him grow up did solidify her choice to stay – as in, stay alive. The family thrived with her now helping out, and Rose was grateful to be able to contribute to her mum's happiness.
But food remained tasteless, and comedies still failed to make her laugh, and she still didn't have a social life. The walks around the park or dinners out at a restaurant were never her idea, but she dutifully participated. She still lacked the desire to make friends or weekend plans or general goals. (She watched from her window as the world passed her by, and she resented each person who didn't know the same suffering as her. Though Rose was loathe to admit that aloud.)
Jackie and Pete noticed, of course. While they were grateful for the help, they wanted Rose to have a life outside of them. But so far, all their efforts to draw her from the dark had failed. Jackie missed her lively, happy girl. She missed Rose's witty remarks and funny jokes and astute observations. She missed hearing her sing and laugh. She missed watching her have fun. She missed seeing Rose living – not just alive.
So, Jackie did the only thing she could: she watched and waited - for a miracle.
I'll build you a fort on some planet, where they can all understand it.
She had Mickey to thank, really. He was the one that insisted she join him at Torchwood one day. All as part of her family's ploy to bring meaning back into her life. Mickey had contrived some half-baked excuse for why they needed her opinion on something, because it had allegedly stumped everyone else. She was the woman for the job, apparently.
Rose knew it was a ruse. But Pete and Jackie had taken Tony to a doctor's appointment that day, so she found herself without anything to occupy her.
As soon as she stepped into Torchwood, something switched on in her brain. Seeing all the strange specimens and alien tech, Rose was brought right back to her time traveling with the Doctor. The building was full of puzzles to be solved, and Rose had grown quite good at solving these sorts of puzzles. After all, she had firsthand experience that most people working here didn't.
So, when Pete offered her a permanent position two weeks later, she took it. Working at Torchwood would be an extension of what she was already doing: helping out wherever needed. If she could contribute to keeping this planet safe, then… well, it was a good way to spend her time. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she used her energy to protect and help people. That was a far more honorable thing to do with one's life. It's what the Doctor would've done.
For those first few months working at Torchwood, Rose felt like her life wasn't quite so worthless. Sure, she became a workaholic and still didn't have much of a personal life, but it was an improvement. She had a purpose again. Because, perhaps, if she couldn't be with the Doctor, she could follow in his footsteps. Apply all the lessons he'd taught her. Do him proud. It was the closest she could get to him.
Then, all of a sudden, the stars started going out.
One by one, the night sky darkened. The end of the world was nigh. At which point, Torchwood sprang into action. Everyone was working around the clock to prevent disaster. They studied and built and theorized and tried all they could. When it quickly became obvious that they were wildly out of their depth, a new idea was proposed. One that made Rose grateful for the end of the world.
They realized that they needed the Doctor.
So, work began on the Dimension Canon. The Doctor had said traveling between dimensions was impossible, but he had done it once before. Now, they just needed to do it on purpose. It got Rose's heart pounding, the idea of seeing him again. Sure, the circumstances were less than ideal, but it was the only thing she'd truly wanted for so long. Honestly, Rose wasn't sure why she hadn't thought of it before. It was the solution to all her woes – the fulfilment of her every dream. And just think what would happen if she did manage to find him! They'd be together again, and she would never let him go.
It wasn't assured, but Rose would sooner die than not give it her best shot. For the foreseeable future, she ran on coffee, energy drinks, couch naps, and unbridled determination. It took a few weeks, but due to some optimally timed spaceship crashes, Torchwood acquired technology advanced enough to build the Canon. Rose volunteered herself to make the journey, and no one dared argue with her. She actually seemed a bit too excited, considering that the whole world was in jeopardy. But it wasn't her first rodeo. She knew that, with the Doctor by her side, they could accomplish anything. All they needed was to be reunited. Everything else would fall into place around them. Rose just knew it.
In testing the machine, she ended up in a few of the wrong dimensions - which is when they discovered that the situation was much worse than first thought. It wasn't just their universe that was in danger; it was every universe. So, now, the emergency was raised to a cataclysmic level. It wasn't just an excuse for a jaunty reunion, anymore. They desperately needed the Doctor - now.
That wasn't anything new for Rose, though. She'd been desperately needing the Doctor for quite a while now. So, she threw herself even further into the work, and vowed that she would find the man she'd lost. No more living for other people. No more getting through the days. No more suffering in silence. The Dimension Canon was her sanctuary, her last hope, her final playing card – her second chance. She was gonna make this machine work properly, and she was gonna go get the love of her life.
Oh, and save all of existence in the process. Obviously.
For a moment, I knew cosmic love.
"Yeah, and how was that sentence gonna end?" She waited with bated breath, gazing at him like he was the answer to all her troubles. (Because he was.)
The Doctor fixed her with a knowing look. "Does it need saying?"
Rose paused. …Did it? For so long, she would've said no. She would've said that their unspoken bond was enough. But now? After those miserable years she'd spent without him? No. Words left unsaid and reading between the lines weren't enough for her anymore. Rose was done desperately throwing herself at whatever breadcrumbs he bothered to toss her way. The universe had almost ended, and she'd detoured through Hell to get here, and she was so unimaginably happy to be standing beside him again, but it wasn't enough. She needed to know. She needed to hear it, to have it confirmed and assured. She deserved that much, at least.
So, she turned to the other Doctor. "And you, Doctor? …What was the end of that sentence?"
He'd already started leaning in before she finished speaking. He titled his head so that his lips just barely grazed the crest of her ear. A chill shot down Rose's spine. "I love you, Rose Tyler."
It's what she'd been waiting to hear since that chilly night outside the café – what felt like a lifetime ago.
Rose stared, for a moment, taking in his face. The color of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the arch of his brows. So familiar. And yet, this Doctor had something that the original didn't. He was part human. He could grow old with her; they could have a life together, unencumbered by wildly different lifespans. She could do all the things with the Doctor that she never dared imagine before: marriage, kids – grandkids, even. They could buy a sensible car and get a mortgage and go grocery shopping. Regular, every day, domestic, delightfully benign activities.
These possibilities flashed before Rose's eyes all at once. When she looked at this second Doctor, she saw the future. He was… mesmerizing – and charming, and dashing, and clever; just like the Doctor always had been. But he was also different. Not better or worse, lesser or greater; just… different.
And, yes, it was a very good different.
So, without any further consideration, Rose grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him against her. Their lips collided forcefully, and it was exactly as she remembered it from New Earth, but better. It was passionate and sweet and full of hope and promise. It wasn't desperate, like the first, because they knew there would be more to come.
The Doctor's arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Rose adjusted so that her hands were wrapped around his neck, and he was just barely managing to lift her off the ground. That was apropos, because Rose felt like she was flying. There was something comforting about the rightness of it all. Her and the Doctor were meant to be; she'd always known it. And now, finally, fate was catching up.
It wasn't until the TARDIS activated that either of them thought to come up for air. Rose turned sharply, breaking away from the warm embrace. She took a few steps forward, though she wasn't sure what for. There was nothing else she could do. It was decided. The original Doctor would continue with his travels, and the new Doctor – her Doctor – would stay here and begin the one adventure his counterpart never could.
It was bittersweet. In the end, Rose still wished she could've said goodbye.
All you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize.
Things had started out heavenly. Pete arrived in Norway a few hours later, and they returned home – this time, with a new family member. Rose was on Cloud 9, and nothing could bring her down. On the plane ride back, she leaned her head in the crook of the Doctor's neck and fell asleep. When they landed back in London and she awoke, Rose was delighted to find that it hadn't all been a dream.
Safe to say, they had quite a few things to explain to Pete. But ultimately, he was grateful to have a version of the Doctor around to help out at Torchwood. (The Doctor never formally accepted the job, but he was never really given a choice. As Pete put it, 'humans have day jobs, and he was human now, so he should have a job.' No grown man was going to be staying in his house for free and not be working.)
Her and the Doctor ended up falling asleep curled up on the couch together, early the next morning. They took things slow the following day, everyone recovering from the harrowing experience of preventing the end of the universe. Rose and the Doctor worked together to cook a late breakfast. The domesticity of it all made her want to cry tears of joy.
The day after that, everyone was springing back into action. The Doctor needed lots of things for his new life – toiletries, bedding, a phone of some kind, more than one pair of the same suit. Armed with Pete's credit card, Rose took him shopping at the mall. Unsurprisingly, they spent most of their time looking at dress pants, ties, and blazers. But the Doctor seemed to be enjoying himself, so that was enough for Rose.
Then there was the matter of identification. Technically speaking, the Doctor didn't exist – at least, not on Earth. He had no birth certificate, no license, no ID, no National Insurance Number. And they couldn't very well turn up and ask for a new birth certificate for a fully grown adult. That would raise too many eyebrows and require too much explaining. The origin of how the Doctor came to be in Pete's World - along with Rose and Jackie – was kept a secret.
All the neighbors knew was that, contrary to reports, Jackie Tyler had survived the Cybermen attack – and reconnected with the daughter she gave up for adoption 20 years ago. If they noticed that her personality was suddenly off, they chalked it up to her brush with death. Nearly becoming a robot was the sort of thing that changed a person.
And now, Rose was returning home with some bloke she'd met while traveling. To have him immediately staying in the family home was certainly a hot topic amongst the brunch moms, but no one confronted them about it.
However, there was still the issue of identification. That all came down to Pete. What with his affiliation with Torchwood and friends in high places, he got some ID made for Rose, on the down low – which people were specifically instructed not to talk or ask about. Now, he had to make the same request for the Doctor. (Officially, he was registered as John Smith. Pete tried to talk him out of the suspiciously generic name, but the Doctor was insistent.) Whatever his coworkers thought he was up to, the important thing was that they still hadn't told anyone.
So, that was that. All done and dusted. It was the beginning of the rest of Rose's life – a life she finally got to spend with her soulmate.
One week after arriving in Pete's World, the Doctor worked up the nerve to ask Rose on a proper date. She said yes, obviously. And it was so cute, watching him struggle to come up with a 'human' date idea. Mini golf and pizza were Rose's suggestion, and he gratefully deferred to her expertise.
That's how it all started. And it was great. At the start.
But once they began working at Torchwood together, things changed. It wasn't until then that Rose was struck by just how different this new Doctor was from the original. The original had said it back on Bad Wolf Bay: his duplicate was emotionally volatile. It was as if the Doctor had regressed; as if all the progress he'd made toward being a better person was undone.
He wasn't cruel or violent or anything equally as awful. No, the Doctor would never hurt her. That hadn't changed. But Rose began to notice little things. Whenever an extraterrestrial threat came along, the Doctor almost always went on the offensive. He assumed that every visitor was dangerous and treated them accordingly. He was suspicious, and distrustful, and intense.
He didn't try to deescalate the situation, as the original would've done. Instead, he got overly protective and intimidating. The first words out of his mouth were almost always about the consequences of doing something antagonistic, even if the creature they were talking to was simply lost and injured. He was advocating for weapons and defense systems now. (Never to be used against innocent people, never to be used at leisure. He did still have morals. He was just quicker to assume aggressive tactics.)
Rose had no idea what was going on, until she remembered the original Doctor's words:
We saved the universe, but at a cost – and the cost is him.
He's too dangerous to be left on his own.
That's me… when we first met.
And you made me better. Now you can do the same for him.
He needs you.
And suddenly, Rose was furious.
Because the Doctor had stuck her with his reject. She'd been given a chore, a pet project, a community service mission. This relationship came with a fine print. And the fine print read: 'we can be happy together, but you have to fix me first'. Why? Why was it her responsibility to fix him? Why was she given the work-in-progress when she could've stayed with the finished product?
Had the Doctor really given her an opportunity – or just an obligation? Was Rose really required to do charity work to earn her happily ever after?
If the meta-crisis had never happened, she'd be back with the original right now. All the effort it took to find him wouldn't have been in vain.
Rose tried to remind herself that, along with the original Doctor, came emotional distance and hesitancy. This new Doctor gave her the chance of a deeper, more human relationship. That's what she wanted. Right? Yeah. Of course. Rose no longer had the energy to chase after a man who couldn't even vocalize his love. This situation was much better for everyone.
And yet, Rose couldn't help feeling like the new Doctor – her Doctor – was merely the equivalent of a participation ribbon. (And a torn one, at that.)
I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life.
Rose tried to push past her innate displeasure and continue to pursue a relationship with the new Doctor. Outside of Torchwood, he was lovely as ever. It was all bouquets of roses (yeah, yeah, very funny) and boxes of chocolates and jewelry made from the recovered gemstones of various different alien species. The Doctor was, in many ways, the perfect boyfriend. (Yes, they had progressed to boyfriend/girlfriend. It had been a dark night, lying on the grass, gazing at a sky full of stars, and he'd suddenly – and nervously – dropped the question; and, against her better judgement, Rose had agreed.)
The Doctor was putting it all out on the line. He'd been given this unimaginable opportunity, and he didn't intend to waste it. The 'I love you's were frequent, and the expressions of devotion were intense. When he looked at her… well, it was the way that Rose had looked at the original Doctor for all those years. Now, having it directed toward her, it should've felt nice, right? Having an honest, caring, faithful partner was rare these days. Rose had hit the proverbial jackpot. She had the sort of man that other women dreamed of.
So, why was his attention so unwelcome? This man bent over backwards to please her, zealous in his quest to provide for her every need and want. It was heartwarming. It should've been heartwarming, anyway. Instead, Rose was left feeling sort of… empty. The hugs were cold, and the kisses were numb. She didn't long to be around him. She didn't spend every idle moment thinking about him. The version of Rose who first met the Doctor would've been appalled by her current negligence of the man she loved, but things just didn't feel the same. Their relationship had started out like a burning, white-hot star; but the brightest stars always burn out the quickest.
She didn't feel her pulse flutter, or her heart skip a beat, or her cheeks tinge with a lovestruck blush. Rose kept getting hung up on the wrongness of it all – the fact that she'd been stuck with her soulmate's duplicate. This wasn't the all-encompassing, identity-redefining love story that she'd imagined.
And Rose almost wanted to laugh. Because, in many ways, this was the fulfillment of her biggest dream. Only come to find out that it wasn't enough. Or, more accurately, it wasn't perfect. She'd imagined forever with the Doctor – the original Doctor – and was instead relegated to his clone. They were alike enough, at face value, but it wasn't the same. The spark, the link, the connection – it was frayed. This new Doctor was, generously, 5% different than the original. And somewhere within that 5%, the compatibility had plummeted.
Then again, maybe that wasn't the issue. After all, the Doctor seemed as delighted as could be over their relationship. So maybe they were perfect for each other; maybe it was Rose making everything harder than it needed to be. Maybe she just needed to give it more time. The Doctor had been missing from her life for so long, and Rose had done a lot of changing since they were last together. She was a New Rose Tyler, and he was a New New New Doctor. Things would slot into place, so long as she gave it a proper chance.
Until then, Rose held on to the romantic fantasies of her youth, in which everything was already perfect.
I dreamed about it in the dark, the night I felt like I might die.
Rose was completely numb to her environment.
The sound of popping bottles and music and laughter reached her ears in a muffled haze. The ceiling lights refracted glimmering beams off the foil balloons. The scent of fresh crab cakes and chocolate mousse wafted over from the kitchen. Guests and staff bustled around her, living in a moment that left Rose immobile. The night air blowing in from the open patio door was chilly. Goosebumps raised to her skin, but she could barely feel them. She stood side-by-side with the Doctor, his arm wrapped around her waist. He was talking to someone, or someone was talking to him; Rose heard the vibration of voices.
Perhaps she shivered, because a moment later, the Doctor's voice brought her back to reality. "Rose? You alright? Are you cold?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead turning to notice the open door and drawing his own conclusions. Without another word, he slipped off his blazer and draped it over her. "Better?"
She finally turned to meet his eyes, and they were sparkling like the Vegas Strip. It made Rose wonder what her own eyes looked like. Dull, probably. Unfocused, maybe. Frightened… she hoped not.
His earnest expression drew a smile to her face all the same, but Rose knew for a fact that it wasn't showing in her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks, Babe."
He grinned wider and stared at her in awe, as though she were the only other thing in existence. Rose hated those looks. Not because they were hurtful – on the contrary, they were kind and loving and beautiful and adorable – but because they were coming from the wrong man.
"They say chivalry is dead," commented a guest warmly, "But they've never met you, John! I've never seen two people so in love."
And you still haven't, Rose thought glumly.
"John" turned back to the lady he'd been chatting with – Wilma, one of Jackie's close friends from pottery class – and was overtaken by coyness. He blushed uncontrollably, shifting one foot. "Oh, I dunno about that, Ms. Dawson. I'm just the luckiest man in the world, desperately trying to earn the right to call this amazing woman my fiancé."
Ugh. And there was that word – fiancé. One side of Rose's brain said that if she hated being called John's fiancé so much, she shouldn't have agreed to marry him. She certainly wouldn't be stuck at this engagement party, then.
But what else could she have done? They'd been dating for about a year and a half, and despite her reservations, Rose had continued playing the role. As far as the Doctor knew, she was as lovestruck as he was. (Expressing emotions had never been his forte, so Rose's displeasure went largely unnoticed.) And Rose had resolved to give it an honest try, to let time draw them closer together. Except it never happened. She's been waiting for this relationship to feel exciting, to feel right, for so long now – but it never came to pass.
By the time Rose began to realize that her feelings might not change, things took a turn. She'd waited too long, and now the relationship was in dangerously serious territory. The Doctor started making mention of their future kids and home and general plans. He saw a forever with her.
The last thing Rose wanted to do was hurt him, especially because the Doctor was such a good man. It truly wasn't him; it was her. What was she supposed to say, though? 'You're amazing, and you've done almost everything right, and I've been asking for this for years, but now that it's happening, I don't want it' – what kind of sense did that make? Rose had no justifiable reason to dump him. The only complaint she could make was that he wasn't the version she wanted. (Which sounds kind of shallow when you say it out loud, right?)
But then, three days ago, he rented out a rooftop restaurant and took her on a carriage ride and danced barefoot with her to their song. Then, he led her down a path of rose petals - under twinkling string lights, in front of a heart-shaped flower arch - and got down on one knee and revealed a gorgeous ring that, apparently, he'd been saving for since his first Torchwood paycheck, and he asked her to marry him.
And oh, bollocks. She was in too deep.
In the moment, Rose had sputtered and stuttered, and the Doctor mistook it for overwhelming joy. He smiled gently, waiting for her to compose her thoughts, and Rose just didn't have the heart to break his. Those eyes – so pleading and loving and hopeful – she couldn't bear to see them dim. He deserved happiness. She was all he wanted out of life. Rose used to feel that way about him – the original him. She knew what it was like, to live and die by someone else's presence.
So, she said 'yes.' And now, here they were.
The party passed in a blur – during which time she had to smile falsely and laugh hollowly. By 11:45pm, the last of the guests had trickled out. The Doctor took her in his arms and spun her around and kissed her passionately, simply because he was happy and wanted to do it. Rose felt nauseous once he put her down.
She didn't have to feign the exhaustion to excuse herself for the night. Rose rushed up to her room and shut the door and took her first real breath of the evening. She resentfully tossed aside those god-forbidden heels, the beautiful yet uncomfortable dress, and the diamond ring that dragged her down like a lead weight. (She'd gotten so many compliments on it, and more than once she was tempted to say, 'well, great – if you like it so much, you can have it.')
When Rose fell asleep that night, she dreamed of her perfect life with the Doctor – the original Doctor, the right Doctor – and smiled for the first time in four days.
I hate it here, so I will go to lunar valleys in my mind… people need a key to get to – the only one is mine.
…And way up there, I actually love it.
Rose glanced at him from across the room. The Doctor looked absolutely dashing in his suit. The shadows highlighted his cheekbones perfectly, and his grin was as charming as ever. That's something he'd inherited from his duplicate. If Rose dissociated hard enough, she could pretend it was four years ago, on her Earth, and she was marrying the Doctor she actually loved. Unfortunately, it never lasted long. People were constantly in her face, expressing their joy and saying she looked beautiful. Rose was constantly being dragged back into the moment she desperately wanted to escape.
If anyone noticed her distraught expression, they chalked it up to pre-wedding jitters. Which was, in a way, accurate.
Pete stepped forward, announcing to the guests that the rehearsal dinner was starting. Everyone went to take their assigned seats. Rose and the Doctor were sitting together at the head table, of course. Unease grew in her stomach with each step she took towards the chair. The Doctor – John, in this company – rushed to pull the chair out for her. Rose's responding smile was perfunctory. He didn't seem to notice.
Food and drinks were served – of which Rose barely partook due to the growing pit in her stomach - and afterwards it was time for speeches. Many close family friends had similar things to say: we wish you the best, you're an inspiring couple, they're grateful to be here – that sort of stuff. When it came around to Jackie, things got more intense.
"My Darling, I haven't gotten to be a part of much of your life so far-" (they still had to maintain the adoption cover story) "-but I'm so happy to be here to witness this. All I ever hoped for you was love, and that's exactly what you've found. I can't wait to be here for more milestones, like the births of my grandchildren – wink, wink." That got a laugh from the entire room, but Rose went pale. "Starting tomorrow, you get to begin a new life with this lovely young man, and everything will be so much better for having him in it. John, I'm delighted to welcome you to the family. I can't wait for the decades ahead that we have to grow closer."
Jackie tucked away her note cards, and everyone gave a round of applause as she sat back down. Rose found herself unable to join in the clapping.
Pete was up next, and his speech was rather simple. "While I second everything my wife just said, I would like to add a thing or two. John, I'm entrusting you to protect and support my precious little girl, and if you fail to do so - in any way, shape, or form – I know people who can make it look like an accident."
That earned even more laughter. The Doctor took a moment to nod and look terrified, but he ultimately joined in. Pete smiled kindly to suggest that it was all said in good fun – mostly – and the mic was passed to the next person.
But Rose couldn't hear any of it. Her mum's speech rang in her ears like an alarm bell. Grandchildren… decades ahead…. The thought scared her half to death. Because for the first time, Rose was faced with the irreversibility of this choice. Getting married was the point of no return. It was the ultimate mark of devotion. It was the gateway to starting a family and building, as Jackie said, a new life together.
Rose dreaded thinking about that – about spending years stuck here with him and kids and responsibilities. Now, no one was demanding she get pregnant right now; Rose knew that. But it would be an eventuality, almost an expectation. Which would've been fine, if she were marrying a man she truly loved. As it stood, Rose couldn't bear the thought of a life with the Doctor. Not this Doctor, anyway. It just didn't fit her perfect dream.
Perhaps it was childish to keep coming back to this perfect imagining that she had of the future. Perfect was unrealistic, unattainable even. And yet, Rose couldn't make herself content. She couldn't settle. That's what their whole relationship had been; settling for him because the original Doctor stranded them here.
She didn't want it. Rose wanted to travel. She wanted to see stars and moons and suns. She wanted to dine with aliens and run from monsters and solve riddles. The Doctor had spoiled her in so many ways, and now that Rose was faced with a normal life, she couldn't stand it. Nothing compared to the time she spent galivanting through the stars with him. That was the forever that Rose wanted. She didn't want to be trapped here on Earth with a half-human Doctor, minus a TARDIS.
Being a Time Lord defined him, shaped him. The Doctor just wasn't the Doctor if he was human – in any percentage. The Doctor wasn't the Doctor without his beloved TARDIS and sonic screwdriver and two hearts and lust for adventure. The meta-crisis Doctor was… tamer. He wanted the human experience. He craved a slow-pace and everyday activities. He found adventure in the benign. After all, this was the one thing he could never do, for so long. Now, he could – and he wanted to enjoy it.
Sure, working at Torchwood still had its moments, but it wasn't the same. This Doctor was content to clock out at 6pm and go home to wash dishes. He wasn't consumed by curiosity, anymore. He wasn't as boisterous and risky. Ever since Rose talked to him about dialing down the hostility and distrust, he was a different man. No, it didn't happen overnight, but he worked really hard to be someone she approved of – his words. And now, all he really strove for was to make her happy.
Rose couldn't fault him for that. He'd made so much progress and smoothed out so many rough patches. It was a ridiculous thing to complain about, really. So many women would've traded places with her in a heartbeat.
And, yes, it was hypocritical, because back on Bad Wolf Bay, she'd chosen this Doctor for the very reason that they had the possibility of a domestic life. It's what she'd wanted, at the time. But now, with that reality staring her in the face, Rose was having second thoughts. (Perhaps it would've been different if this Doctor hadn't been presented to her as sloppy seconds, but she couldn't say for sure.) She couldn't help remembering all the adventures, all the experiences, and craving them again. The grass is always greener on the other side, as they say.
When the dinner ended and everyone went home, Rose persisted with these spiraling thoughts. The rapid beating of her heart made her chest ache, and her throat was nearly closing up. Rose kept wiping sweat from her palms on the bedsheets, but it was always replaced by more. Her foot started tapping in a bid to release all her pent-up anxiety. To put it simply, she felt sick.
And no matter how many times she tried to reason or reassure herself, no matter how many times she tried to shift her thoughts, Rose's mind always came back to the suffocating idea of being stuck with this man forever. It wasn't until the sun started to peak over the horizon that she realized she'd been awake all night. It was tomorrow. The day of the wedding. The beginning of her eternal jail sentence.
Rose glanced to the wedding dress hanging on the back of her door, and something snapped. She'd been thinking incessantly for the entire night, but now, she acted without hesitation or contemplation. Jumping out of bed, she tossed on the quickest thing she could find. Rose grabbed a backpack, proceeded to go around the room gathering belongings, and then snuck downstairs. Fortunately, the staff wouldn't be awake for another two hours, so she was able to rummage around the kitchen unnoticed. She grabbed bottles of water and non-perishables only.
Then, she was out the door. Hoping into the car Pete bought her, Rose sped off. She arrived at the Torchwood base, showed her ID, and made her way inside. Now, this was the tricky part. Rose needed to act fast if she didn't want anyone interfering. She wasn't well-acquainted with most of the night staff, which worked to her advantage. The guards only paid attention to her clearance level, and no one questioned her outside of that. No one asked why she was here instead of at home, preparing to walk down the aisle.
She made her way into the main lab and proceeded to gather more items. Mostly scientific gadgets that would aid her on this upcoming journey; handheld items that could be stuffed in the backpack, and as many different chargers as she could find. (And, after a moment of hesitation, a high-tech weapon.) Then, she opened the door to the storage bay. This was where Torchwood kept - among other things - excavated alien artifacts, current projects, and finished machines.
Rose located a particular machine and took it in her hands. It was too big to be considered handheld, but it was also mobile. Heavy, but mobile. Probably about the size of a crossbow. The Dimension Canon.
It was only now that Rose paused for a breath. She hadn't stopped for even a moment since getting out of bed; worried that if she did, she'd change her mind. This was a cruel thing to do, she knew. The meta-crisis Doctor was brilliant, and he deserved love. But that love just couldn't come from her. Rose had always had her mind set on one particular man. And right now, that man was universes away. Ultimately, she decided that her personal happiness had to take precedence over all the other unpleasantness.
Rose went to a nearby computer, took a moment to compose an email, and sent it to each member of her family – Pete, Jackie, and the Doctor. First and foremost, it explained where she'd gone; because Rose hated the thought of frightening her mum. At least this way, they'd know she was safe. Then, she left a special message for Tony, expressing her endless love and regret over not being able to watch him grow into an adult.
Finally, she went on to explain, well… why. Why she came to this decision.
And to be honest, Rose wasn't entirely sure, herself. Because, again, to try explaining to anyone else that she was ditching her own wedding because the groom was too human… well, that sounded insane. It would sound insane even to the people who knew John's true identity. The Doctor, in any form, was amazing, and who would understand her running away because this dream wasn't 100% faithful to her original?
The best Rose could do was say that she felt trapped – in Pete's World, in her relationship, in her life. That she needed to be with the (original) Doctor like a fish needed water, like a lung needed air. That, try as she might, living happily like this was impossible.
Maybe it should've been said in person. Maybe it should've been said before the morning of her wedding. But Rose couldn't bear the image of a heartbroken Doctor - who'd dedicated his one, human life to being with her. She didn't want to suffer through what would undoubtedly be an awful conversation with her parents. She didn't want to face the consequences of such rash actions.
There was no going back, now. The minute someone received her email, they'd undoubtedly rush down here in an attempt to stop her. Rose needed to be long gone by then. Once the device was activated, an alert would go off throughout the facility, so she also had Torchwood personnel to contend with. This needed to be quick and precise.
As precise as can be when you have no idea where you're going. Though the Dimension Canon had worked successfully, there was still no way to control the destination. She could, potentially, be bouncing from universe to universe for months – hence all the supplies. But Rose had done that once before – back when the sky was dimming. She'd found the Doctor. So, now, she just needed to do it again. Rose wouldn't stop trying until she was successful. After all, there was no returning to Pete's World after this. Not after running away from her family and abandoning her fiancé.
This was risky and ill-advised, but that's exactly the sort of life she wanted with the Doctor. Might as well make a start on that right now.
So, with a deep breath, a quick peptalk, and a silent promise, Rose activated the machine. As expected, the speakers came to life and the alarms blared, warning all in the building of this new activity. Rose already knew exactly which buttons to press, though. The Dimension Canon was firing before anyone even had the chance to blink.
In a flash, she was gone – gone to chase down her happily ever after.
AN:Could I have ended it with Tentoo and Rose on Bad Wolf Bay - happy? Yes. But I woke up and chose violence instead.
Side note: there ended up being thirteen subheadings. I didn't plan for that, but I'm sure glad it happened.