Fic: Impossible Odds 1/1
Story: Impossible Odds
Author: WMR
Characters: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: Doomsday - you have been warned!
Rated: G
Summary: He's always liked impossible, hasn't he?
Everyone's doing it, I know, but I couldn't sleep last night until I wrote this. Many thanks to
dark_aegis and
un_sedentary for BRing.
This is unashamed wish-fulfilment fic. Sorry about that! Feel free to click back now ;)
Impossible Odds
For three years, he studies. Searches. Examines patterns, looks for changes, possibilities, anything. For three years, he finds nothing. Nothing in the right galaxy in the right time.
But then he never really expected to. As he told Rose on Dårlig Ulv Stranda, the gap was sealing. They can’t see each other again.
Doesn’t stop him looking, and wanting, and hoping.
Though he doesn’t do it to the exclusion of all else. He’s the Doctor, after all. There is a universe to take care of, worlds to save, people to take care of, whether they like it or not.
He can’t spend the rest of his lives wishing for what might have been, or searching for the impossible. Even if he has always rather liked the impossible.
So he does other things. Lives, as Rose would want him to. Picks up another companion - not exactly intentional, but then they rarely have been, Rose being one of the few he actually asked to travel with him. Martha’s very different from Rose. She’s a few years older, though in comparison to him that means nothing. She’s funny, sparky, argues with him a lot and refuses to believe in his brilliance the rest of the time. And, secretly, he loves her for it, because it’s just what he needs.
And, for a while, he even allows himself to forget that he once held another hand in his. Tells himself that he’s happy, that Martha’s hand in his drives away the loneliness enough that he doesn’t need to keep searching for that tiny possibility in an impossible scenario.
Yet he keeps looking.
And the days, the weeks, the months and then the years go past. Martha says goodbye; unexpectedly, without warning, she tells him that it’s time, that she wants to go home, that she thinks there’s something more for her on Earth than there is here. He’s surprised, sad, but not entirely unhappy about it. Because she’s right: she’s learned all she can from him, seen all she wants to and he’s ready for her to leave. Just as she is ready to go.
And still he looks.
He saves planets, foments revolutions, destroys evil invaders, lectures presidents and prime ministers on a better way of governing. Holds the hand of a dying victim of one of his schemes - a scheme which works, of course it does, but as always there are casualties - murmurs, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” and remembers countless other occasions when he’s said the same thing.
He never got to say it to her. One of many things he never got to say to her.
On a distant star once, he catches sight of blonde hair and a shapely body and feels his hearts leap. He’s chasing after her before he realises that the height’s different and the walk is all wrong. Not her. Never her.
He never goes back to London in 2007. Not after that one time, his visit during the clearing up just to check what was being said about Rose, about Jackie; to check what was happening with Torchwood. He goes to Earth still, even to England, but not there. Or to the twenty years before that. Even if he is tempted to go to catch a glimpse of her in her earlier years, before he met her.
He said goodbye. He will leave it at that.
Yet still he keeps searching.
And then one day he finds something. Another supernova.
Supernovas are rare enough in any one galaxy, but this one is a Type II, even more infrequent. Even better, the TARDIS has spotted it early, before the neutrino burst has completely transferred its energy to the star and caused it to explode. He latches onto it right at the point of explosion.
It probably won’t work. There’s no reason to suppose it will, and even if it will there’s no reason to suppose that he will actually end up in her universe. There are many, many parallel universes, after all. To find one specific universe among so many... impossible odds.
But then he’s always liked impossible, hasn’t he?
***
She’s tidying her desk at the end of another long day - you work too hard, her mum’s always telling her - when it happens.
A burning sensation against her chest. Hot, fiercely, painfully hot.
She tugs at the chain that is always, without fail, around her neck. Her reminder, her souvenir, her talisman. She has nothing else of him, after all. No photographs. No letters. Anything he ever gave her, or that she had while she was with him, is still in the TARDIS or was left behind in her mum’s flat.
The key, the TARDIS key, is all she has.
And it is burning, glowing, golden in the dim light of the office.
And that’s impossible.
The only way that can happen is if the TARDIS is near. But... no, it’s impossible. He told her that.
If it weren’t, then surely... But it’s been five long years. More than that. If it were possible, he would never have left it this long. Would he?
She knows him, after all. Yes, he was devastated at their parting, as she was. Yes, he nodded when she asked if he’d be travelling on his own. But she knows him better than that. He moves on. Has done many, many times before. He will always love her, as he always loves everyone else he’s known and cared for. But he will find someone else. Many someone elses.
She’s thought of him like that over the years, hoping that he’s found someone who can make him smile, make him laugh. Hoping that he’s not alone. He is alone in every way that counts; the last of his kind, the sole survivor. The only Time Lord and TARDIS in the universe. He doesn’t deserve to stay lonely for the rest of his lives.
He will have found someone else, another hand to hold, another voice to keep him company in the long silences. And she’s happy for him.
But now... Her key. Glowing, burning once again.
It’s not possible. But she wonders about something else, something she’s puzzled over many times since their parting. What if there is a Doctor in this universe too? He never said there couldn’t be, now that his people are dead.
But would a different Doctor’s TARDIS make her key glow?
Because it wouldn’t be the same Doctor. Just as Pete isn’t the same Pete who was her father. He’s close, close enough for her mum, but they’re not the same man.
It doesn’t make sense. But one thing the Doctor taught her is that things that don’t make sense are that way for a reason, and it’s important to find out why they don’t make sense. And make sense of them. That advice has stood her in good stead during five and a half years at Torchwood.
Her key is glowing. She needs to find out why.
***
What she wouldn’t give for his sonic screwdriver! At least then she could trace the source of whatever is causing the key to glow. As it is, she can only search in the dark.
The key is warm. It’s not hot, as his key was that day in the church. Maybe that means the TARDIS isn’t as close as his was then. So perhaps that’s the clue. Follow the key. Hold it, see what direction makes it get hotter.
So that’s what she does. Downstairs and into the car park, and she gets into her car, holding the key between her hand and the steering-wheel. Right or left? she thinks as she reaches the exit. Her hand burns suddenly as she thinks left. Left it is.
Thus it continues. Her hand will be a mass of blisters by the time this ends, but she doesn’t care. Can’t care. Even if this is a wild goose chase, even if what’s happening with the key is some sort of weird residual energy or even remnants of Bad Wolf, she’s not going to ignore it. After all, she didn’t ignore the dream, and look what happened.
Left, right, straight on, miles and miles of road. Motorways, A-roads, narrow, winding roads through hills and forest and villages and, eventually, a cliff by the sea, just north of Scarborough. Again, water. It’s dark, very dark, by the time she reaches - literally - the end of the road.
And the key is burning, scorching, making her wince and almost cry out in pain. She stops the car, engages the handbrake and lets the key fall to her lap. There’s a first-aid kit under the passenger seat. She rummages, finds antiseptic - it’s not burn cream, but better than nothing - and puts a plaster over the key-shaped mark.
If there’s something out there, she can’t see it. That, though, does not mean there’s nothing there - yet another lesson she learned from the Doctor.
A thought occurs to her, and she rummages in her handbag for her mobile. Not the phone she had when she was with the Doctor. That one did work over here, though never to call the TARDIS. She did try. But it’s old now, out of date, lacking the latest features her employer feels it necessary for her to have. And besides, the mobile was a painful memory.
The phone is answered within three rings; she’s woken her mum and Pete up. “Mum, it’s me. Something’s ‘appened. No, nothing bad,” she adds in response to the frantic question. “It’s just... something I need to check out.” She swallows, still unable to believe it. “My key started glowing. My TARDIS key.”
Her mum wants to know what that means, but she can’t explain. Doesn’t want to vocalise what it should mean, because that would be putting her hopes into words and that’s not a good thing. Because she’s probably wrong. Because it’s impossible.
“I’ll phone you later, okay?” she says. “Let you know what happens.”
And with that she ends the call and gets out of her car, taking the torch she always keeps in the glove compartment for emergencies. Follows the narrow beam across the rough ground, towards the cliff. She won’t go too close, of course. Doesn’t want to meet her end on Scalby Ness Rocks.
There’s a flash of blue in the torch’s beam. Impossible.
She almost drops the torch, but catches it in time, along with her breath. She refocuses, training it where she saw the blue. And it is. A great big splash of blue amid the grey of the coast, the cliff, the rocks.
She breaks into a run. The closer she gets, the more she begins to believe the impossible.
And then the torch picks it out. Police Public Call Box.
But is it his? Her Doctor’s?
She gets closer still, within about twenty feet. And then a tall, lean figure steps out from inside, leaving the door open behind him.
Him.
Still wearing the brown pin-stripe suit, she sees. And the long overcoat. His hair is as untidy as ever. He looks just the same.
And, as he sees her, a bright, brilliant smile breaks out on his face.
“It worked, then,” he says, his tone conversational. As if they just spoke to each other five minutes ago.
She stares, barely able to believe. And yet he’s here.
But, no, of course he isn’t. It’s a projection, just like the last time.
“Where are you this time?” she has to ask.
“Right here. You can see me, can’t you?” He looks faintly surprised at her question.
“Yeah, but it’s a projection, right? You found another crack, right?”
And then the smile widens. “Not just a crack this time, Rose. A whole bloody great hole! A Type II supernova, in the Earth’s galaxy, in your time. Do you know how rare that is? The last supernova in your galaxy - well, the galaxy you came from - was four hundred years ago. And the TARDIS found one. She’s amazing, isn’t she? Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.”
A supernova? That’s what he used the last time, to find the crack to let him project his image through. “And...?” He does like to drag these explanations out sometimes.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his smile turns amused, crooked, and he walks towards her. And keeps walking until he’s standing right in front of her, backlit by the light from the TARDIS interior.
Cruel, in a way, because she can’t touch him. It’s just an image. So near, and yet so very, very far away.
His hand stretches towards her. She waits. It will go right through her, because he’s not real.
Fingers, real fingers, cool just as she remembers, brush her cheek. And she chokes out a sob. How can he be doing this?
“I’m real, Rose. I told you. A Type II supernova has much more energy than a Type I. I was able to use it to create a wider crack this time. Just big enough to take the TARDIS through. Not for long, though. I was hoping you’d get the message.” The slow smile’s back.
The ice that’s surrounded her heart, her whole inside, ever since she was torn away from him starts to melt. He’s really here. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, he’s here. She can touch him. Feel him. Be held in his arms once more.
She moves closer to him and brings her hand up to cover his fingers, still on her cheek. “Doctor.”
“Rose.” His grin is impish. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she still manages to find a grin for him in return.
And then she’s in his arms, in his embrace, that hug she so longed for the day they said goodbye. He’s lifting her off her feet, swinging her around, exultant in his joy. Their joy.
He’s here. He’s real. He came back to see her. Her Doctor.
***
He releases her after long, long moments. Yet it’s still not long enough. They talk for just a few minutes, a little catching up. Yes, he’s had companions. No, he’s alone now. Yes, still travelling, still on the move. Still rude, managed not to die again just yet.
She has a brother - called John, for him, because without him her mum and Pete would never have found each other. Still at Torchwood and, yes, she likes it. Adventure, aliens, danger; it might not have travelling through space and time, but it’s still exciting. Except for the paperwork.
It might not really be the fantastic life he wanted her to have, but she hopes he’ll think it’s good enough.
Neither of them say they miss the other, but they both know it’s true. She sees the truth of it in his eyes, just as she saw his love for her in his eyes that day on the beach. She knows.
It’s every bit as hard now to know what to say to him. Especially as she’s not sure why he’s come. Just to say goodbye again? To be able to touch her, hold her, this time?
And how long can he stay? Minutes?
And then he looks at her, head slightly to one side, gaze not leaving hers. In what little light there is from the stars and the open TARDIS doorway, she sees uncertainty in his expression.
“It’s been more than five years for you, Rose. I don’t suppose you still...?”
Still what? Care about him? Love him? Want to be with him?
“Doctor?” There’s a choke in her voice again, just as there was five years ago when she said goodbye to him in Bad Wolf Bay.
“Well... I don’t know what you’ve been doing. We didn’t talk about... I mean, you could be married, have kids, anything.”
She shakes her head. Wonders, for a minute, how he could even think that. But then he would assume that she’s moved on. They’d assumed they could never see each other again. And she knows, has always known, that he would never want her to pine for him for the rest of her life.
But Sarah-Jane said it once. The Doctor is a hard act to follow.
After being with him - after loving him - how could she possibly love anyone else?
Mickey tried. He stayed around for a long time after they all ended up back in the parallel universe. He wanted to be there for her, to help her, and he tried to pretend that he still loved her. But she knew the truth. He’d moved on. And so had she. Anyway, how could it be fair to him to be with him while loving another man?
So, after a long, tearful conversation late one night, a few weeks after she said goodbye to the Doctor, she sent him to Jake. They’re still together, and very happy.
She lives alone, and has done ever since she moved out of Pete’s house, six months or so after leaving the Doctor.
“No. Nothin’ like that.”
“Then...” Slowly, a smile curves across his face. Oh, it’s so familiar, that. She’s seen it so many times in her dreams, night after night during the long, long time since she was forced to leave him. That beautiful smile, every bit as wonderful as the smile of her first Doctor. It had never failed to warm her inside.
“Well... I don’t know...” He hesitates, and the smile widens. “You could come with me.”
Her own smile grows. The last remaining chunk of ice around her heart melts. “Hmm. I dunno. Does it travel in time?”
That surprises a laugh out of him. “That it does. And - twice in a lifetime - between universes.”
“Then how could I say no?”
He holds out his hand towards her, waggling his fingers. And she takes it in hers. Their hands still fit together perfectly.
Then he hesitates. “You sure about this, Rose? Cause I really don’t think we can ever come back. Not this time. Your mum. Pete. Your little brother. Mickey. You can never see them again.”
He’s still so uncertain of her love for him. “Doctor, I told you before. I made my choice a long time ago. Wasn’t my fault I couldn’t stick with it.”
He nods. “All right.” And, again, he smiles.
“So, we going, then?” She grins at him and jerks her head towards the TARDIS.
“In a minute.” He steps closer to her, dropping her hand and catching her by the shoulders instead. “There’s something I never got to do all those years ago. And I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“What’s that, then, Doctor?” But she thinks she knows.
“I wasted too much time on the beach. I should have just told you.” He shifts one hand to her face, caressing her cheek, her jaw. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”
The ice is all gone, at last. She sways closer to him, feeling his strong, lean body next to hers. “I know.” She smiles again. “I always knew.”
“Yeah.” His thumb strokes her cheek. “I hoped you did.”
And then he moves, closing the gap between them, his head lowering at the same time. His kiss is sweet and tender and so, so beautiful. And she has tears running down her cheeks when he raises his head.
“What?” He sounds anxious. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She smiles through the tears. “Nothing at all. ‘S just perfect.”
Worth waiting for. Worth the almost two thousand days without him.
He’s worth waiting for. But then, he always was.
He smiles again, releases her and takes her hand. “So, Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth, ready to become a Time Lord’s companion again?”
She bumps her hip against his. “Try an’ stop me.”
END
Author: WMR
Characters: Ten/Rose
Spoilers: Doomsday - you have been warned!
Rated: G
Summary: He's always liked impossible, hasn't he?
Everyone's doing it, I know, but I couldn't sleep last night until I wrote this. Many thanks to
dark_aegis and
un_sedentary for BRing.
This is unashamed wish-fulfilment fic. Sorry about that! Feel free to click back now ;)
Impossible Odds
For three years, he studies. Searches. Examines patterns, looks for changes, possibilities, anything. For three years, he finds nothing. Nothing in the right galaxy in the right time.
But then he never really expected to. As he told Rose on Dårlig Ulv Stranda, the gap was sealing. They can’t see each other again.
Doesn’t stop him looking, and wanting, and hoping.
Though he doesn’t do it to the exclusion of all else. He’s the Doctor, after all. There is a universe to take care of, worlds to save, people to take care of, whether they like it or not.
He can’t spend the rest of his lives wishing for what might have been, or searching for the impossible. Even if he has always rather liked the impossible.
So he does other things. Lives, as Rose would want him to. Picks up another companion - not exactly intentional, but then they rarely have been, Rose being one of the few he actually asked to travel with him. Martha’s very different from Rose. She’s a few years older, though in comparison to him that means nothing. She’s funny, sparky, argues with him a lot and refuses to believe in his brilliance the rest of the time. And, secretly, he loves her for it, because it’s just what he needs.
And, for a while, he even allows himself to forget that he once held another hand in his. Tells himself that he’s happy, that Martha’s hand in his drives away the loneliness enough that he doesn’t need to keep searching for that tiny possibility in an impossible scenario.
Yet he keeps looking.
And the days, the weeks, the months and then the years go past. Martha says goodbye; unexpectedly, without warning, she tells him that it’s time, that she wants to go home, that she thinks there’s something more for her on Earth than there is here. He’s surprised, sad, but not entirely unhappy about it. Because she’s right: she’s learned all she can from him, seen all she wants to and he’s ready for her to leave. Just as she is ready to go.
And still he looks.
He saves planets, foments revolutions, destroys evil invaders, lectures presidents and prime ministers on a better way of governing. Holds the hand of a dying victim of one of his schemes - a scheme which works, of course it does, but as always there are casualties - murmurs, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” and remembers countless other occasions when he’s said the same thing.
He never got to say it to her. One of many things he never got to say to her.
On a distant star once, he catches sight of blonde hair and a shapely body and feels his hearts leap. He’s chasing after her before he realises that the height’s different and the walk is all wrong. Not her. Never her.
He never goes back to London in 2007. Not after that one time, his visit during the clearing up just to check what was being said about Rose, about Jackie; to check what was happening with Torchwood. He goes to Earth still, even to England, but not there. Or to the twenty years before that. Even if he is tempted to go to catch a glimpse of her in her earlier years, before he met her.
He said goodbye. He will leave it at that.
Yet still he keeps searching.
And then one day he finds something. Another supernova.
Supernovas are rare enough in any one galaxy, but this one is a Type II, even more infrequent. Even better, the TARDIS has spotted it early, before the neutrino burst has completely transferred its energy to the star and caused it to explode. He latches onto it right at the point of explosion.
It probably won’t work. There’s no reason to suppose it will, and even if it will there’s no reason to suppose that he will actually end up in her universe. There are many, many parallel universes, after all. To find one specific universe among so many... impossible odds.
But then he’s always liked impossible, hasn’t he?
***
She’s tidying her desk at the end of another long day - you work too hard, her mum’s always telling her - when it happens.
A burning sensation against her chest. Hot, fiercely, painfully hot.
She tugs at the chain that is always, without fail, around her neck. Her reminder, her souvenir, her talisman. She has nothing else of him, after all. No photographs. No letters. Anything he ever gave her, or that she had while she was with him, is still in the TARDIS or was left behind in her mum’s flat.
The key, the TARDIS key, is all she has.
And it is burning, glowing, golden in the dim light of the office.
And that’s impossible.
The only way that can happen is if the TARDIS is near. But... no, it’s impossible. He told her that.
If it weren’t, then surely... But it’s been five long years. More than that. If it were possible, he would never have left it this long. Would he?
She knows him, after all. Yes, he was devastated at their parting, as she was. Yes, he nodded when she asked if he’d be travelling on his own. But she knows him better than that. He moves on. Has done many, many times before. He will always love her, as he always loves everyone else he’s known and cared for. But he will find someone else. Many someone elses.
She’s thought of him like that over the years, hoping that he’s found someone who can make him smile, make him laugh. Hoping that he’s not alone. He is alone in every way that counts; the last of his kind, the sole survivor. The only Time Lord and TARDIS in the universe. He doesn’t deserve to stay lonely for the rest of his lives.
He will have found someone else, another hand to hold, another voice to keep him company in the long silences. And she’s happy for him.
But now... Her key. Glowing, burning once again.
It’s not possible. But she wonders about something else, something she’s puzzled over many times since their parting. What if there is a Doctor in this universe too? He never said there couldn’t be, now that his people are dead.
But would a different Doctor’s TARDIS make her key glow?
Because it wouldn’t be the same Doctor. Just as Pete isn’t the same Pete who was her father. He’s close, close enough for her mum, but they’re not the same man.
It doesn’t make sense. But one thing the Doctor taught her is that things that don’t make sense are that way for a reason, and it’s important to find out why they don’t make sense. And make sense of them. That advice has stood her in good stead during five and a half years at Torchwood.
Her key is glowing. She needs to find out why.
***
What she wouldn’t give for his sonic screwdriver! At least then she could trace the source of whatever is causing the key to glow. As it is, she can only search in the dark.
The key is warm. It’s not hot, as his key was that day in the church. Maybe that means the TARDIS isn’t as close as his was then. So perhaps that’s the clue. Follow the key. Hold it, see what direction makes it get hotter.
So that’s what she does. Downstairs and into the car park, and she gets into her car, holding the key between her hand and the steering-wheel. Right or left? she thinks as she reaches the exit. Her hand burns suddenly as she thinks left. Left it is.
Thus it continues. Her hand will be a mass of blisters by the time this ends, but she doesn’t care. Can’t care. Even if this is a wild goose chase, even if what’s happening with the key is some sort of weird residual energy or even remnants of Bad Wolf, she’s not going to ignore it. After all, she didn’t ignore the dream, and look what happened.
Left, right, straight on, miles and miles of road. Motorways, A-roads, narrow, winding roads through hills and forest and villages and, eventually, a cliff by the sea, just north of Scarborough. Again, water. It’s dark, very dark, by the time she reaches - literally - the end of the road.
And the key is burning, scorching, making her wince and almost cry out in pain. She stops the car, engages the handbrake and lets the key fall to her lap. There’s a first-aid kit under the passenger seat. She rummages, finds antiseptic - it’s not burn cream, but better than nothing - and puts a plaster over the key-shaped mark.
If there’s something out there, she can’t see it. That, though, does not mean there’s nothing there - yet another lesson she learned from the Doctor.
A thought occurs to her, and she rummages in her handbag for her mobile. Not the phone she had when she was with the Doctor. That one did work over here, though never to call the TARDIS. She did try. But it’s old now, out of date, lacking the latest features her employer feels it necessary for her to have. And besides, the mobile was a painful memory.
The phone is answered within three rings; she’s woken her mum and Pete up. “Mum, it’s me. Something’s ‘appened. No, nothing bad,” she adds in response to the frantic question. “It’s just... something I need to check out.” She swallows, still unable to believe it. “My key started glowing. My TARDIS key.”
Her mum wants to know what that means, but she can’t explain. Doesn’t want to vocalise what it should mean, because that would be putting her hopes into words and that’s not a good thing. Because she’s probably wrong. Because it’s impossible.
“I’ll phone you later, okay?” she says. “Let you know what happens.”
And with that she ends the call and gets out of her car, taking the torch she always keeps in the glove compartment for emergencies. Follows the narrow beam across the rough ground, towards the cliff. She won’t go too close, of course. Doesn’t want to meet her end on Scalby Ness Rocks.
There’s a flash of blue in the torch’s beam. Impossible.
She almost drops the torch, but catches it in time, along with her breath. She refocuses, training it where she saw the blue. And it is. A great big splash of blue amid the grey of the coast, the cliff, the rocks.
She breaks into a run. The closer she gets, the more she begins to believe the impossible.
And then the torch picks it out. Police Public Call Box.
But is it his? Her Doctor’s?
She gets closer still, within about twenty feet. And then a tall, lean figure steps out from inside, leaving the door open behind him.
Him.
Still wearing the brown pin-stripe suit, she sees. And the long overcoat. His hair is as untidy as ever. He looks just the same.
And, as he sees her, a bright, brilliant smile breaks out on his face.
“It worked, then,” he says, his tone conversational. As if they just spoke to each other five minutes ago.
She stares, barely able to believe. And yet he’s here.
But, no, of course he isn’t. It’s a projection, just like the last time.
“Where are you this time?” she has to ask.
“Right here. You can see me, can’t you?” He looks faintly surprised at her question.
“Yeah, but it’s a projection, right? You found another crack, right?”
And then the smile widens. “Not just a crack this time, Rose. A whole bloody great hole! A Type II supernova, in the Earth’s galaxy, in your time. Do you know how rare that is? The last supernova in your galaxy - well, the galaxy you came from - was four hundred years ago. And the TARDIS found one. She’s amazing, isn’t she? Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.”
A supernova? That’s what he used the last time, to find the crack to let him project his image through. “And...?” He does like to drag these explanations out sometimes.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his smile turns amused, crooked, and he walks towards her. And keeps walking until he’s standing right in front of her, backlit by the light from the TARDIS interior.
Cruel, in a way, because she can’t touch him. It’s just an image. So near, and yet so very, very far away.
His hand stretches towards her. She waits. It will go right through her, because he’s not real.
Fingers, real fingers, cool just as she remembers, brush her cheek. And she chokes out a sob. How can he be doing this?
“I’m real, Rose. I told you. A Type II supernova has much more energy than a Type I. I was able to use it to create a wider crack this time. Just big enough to take the TARDIS through. Not for long, though. I was hoping you’d get the message.” The slow smile’s back.
The ice that’s surrounded her heart, her whole inside, ever since she was torn away from him starts to melt. He’s really here. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, he’s here. She can touch him. Feel him. Be held in his arms once more.
She moves closer to him and brings her hand up to cover his fingers, still on her cheek. “Doctor.”
“Rose.” His grin is impish. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she still manages to find a grin for him in return.
And then she’s in his arms, in his embrace, that hug she so longed for the day they said goodbye. He’s lifting her off her feet, swinging her around, exultant in his joy. Their joy.
He’s here. He’s real. He came back to see her. Her Doctor.
***
He releases her after long, long moments. Yet it’s still not long enough. They talk for just a few minutes, a little catching up. Yes, he’s had companions. No, he’s alone now. Yes, still travelling, still on the move. Still rude, managed not to die again just yet.
She has a brother - called John, for him, because without him her mum and Pete would never have found each other. Still at Torchwood and, yes, she likes it. Adventure, aliens, danger; it might not have travelling through space and time, but it’s still exciting. Except for the paperwork.
It might not really be the fantastic life he wanted her to have, but she hopes he’ll think it’s good enough.
Neither of them say they miss the other, but they both know it’s true. She sees the truth of it in his eyes, just as she saw his love for her in his eyes that day on the beach. She knows.
It’s every bit as hard now to know what to say to him. Especially as she’s not sure why he’s come. Just to say goodbye again? To be able to touch her, hold her, this time?
And how long can he stay? Minutes?
And then he looks at her, head slightly to one side, gaze not leaving hers. In what little light there is from the stars and the open TARDIS doorway, she sees uncertainty in his expression.
“It’s been more than five years for you, Rose. I don’t suppose you still...?”
Still what? Care about him? Love him? Want to be with him?
“Doctor?” There’s a choke in her voice again, just as there was five years ago when she said goodbye to him in Bad Wolf Bay.
“Well... I don’t know what you’ve been doing. We didn’t talk about... I mean, you could be married, have kids, anything.”
She shakes her head. Wonders, for a minute, how he could even think that. But then he would assume that she’s moved on. They’d assumed they could never see each other again. And she knows, has always known, that he would never want her to pine for him for the rest of her life.
But Sarah-Jane said it once. The Doctor is a hard act to follow.
After being with him - after loving him - how could she possibly love anyone else?
Mickey tried. He stayed around for a long time after they all ended up back in the parallel universe. He wanted to be there for her, to help her, and he tried to pretend that he still loved her. But she knew the truth. He’d moved on. And so had she. Anyway, how could it be fair to him to be with him while loving another man?
So, after a long, tearful conversation late one night, a few weeks after she said goodbye to the Doctor, she sent him to Jake. They’re still together, and very happy.
She lives alone, and has done ever since she moved out of Pete’s house, six months or so after leaving the Doctor.
“No. Nothin’ like that.”
“Then...” Slowly, a smile curves across his face. Oh, it’s so familiar, that. She’s seen it so many times in her dreams, night after night during the long, long time since she was forced to leave him. That beautiful smile, every bit as wonderful as the smile of her first Doctor. It had never failed to warm her inside.
“Well... I don’t know...” He hesitates, and the smile widens. “You could come with me.”
Her own smile grows. The last remaining chunk of ice around her heart melts. “Hmm. I dunno. Does it travel in time?”
That surprises a laugh out of him. “That it does. And - twice in a lifetime - between universes.”
“Then how could I say no?”
He holds out his hand towards her, waggling his fingers. And she takes it in hers. Their hands still fit together perfectly.
Then he hesitates. “You sure about this, Rose? Cause I really don’t think we can ever come back. Not this time. Your mum. Pete. Your little brother. Mickey. You can never see them again.”
He’s still so uncertain of her love for him. “Doctor, I told you before. I made my choice a long time ago. Wasn’t my fault I couldn’t stick with it.”
He nods. “All right.” And, again, he smiles.
“So, we going, then?” She grins at him and jerks her head towards the TARDIS.
“In a minute.” He steps closer to her, dropping her hand and catching her by the shoulders instead. “There’s something I never got to do all those years ago. And I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“What’s that, then, Doctor?” But she thinks she knows.
“I wasted too much time on the beach. I should have just told you.” He shifts one hand to her face, caressing her cheek, her jaw. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”
The ice is all gone, at last. She sways closer to him, feeling his strong, lean body next to hers. “I know.” She smiles again. “I always knew.”
“Yeah.” His thumb strokes her cheek. “I hoped you did.”
And then he moves, closing the gap between them, his head lowering at the same time. His kiss is sweet and tender and so, so beautiful. And she has tears running down her cheeks when he raises his head.
“What?” He sounds anxious. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She smiles through the tears. “Nothing at all. ‘S just perfect.”
Worth waiting for. Worth the almost two thousand days without him.
He’s worth waiting for. But then, he always was.
He smiles again, releases her and takes her hand. “So, Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth, ready to become a Time Lord’s companion again?”
She bumps her hip against his. “Try an’ stop me.”
END