for galaxys

[thatsortofman]

The TARDIS has come to rest in London again. Modern-day is a relative thing, all time is a relative thing, but it's the general period that he's come to think of as a baseline for most of his travel along Earth's timeline. It's the time of Martha and Donna and Torchwood. It would be the time of Rose, if any of the time in this reality belonged to her anymore.

As always, even the thought of the blond sends something of an ache that echoes through both his hearts, the bittersweet knowledge that she's safe and alive and living a life that he'll never get to even glimpse. Out of his reach, but at least alive. That has to be comfort enough.

He does his best to slip the memories. It's a lovely day, the sort of spring day that are a rarity in London -- no rain, no chill. Just a warm, gentle sort of sun that casts the park he's sitting in in dappled light through leaf-laden trees. Nearby the TARDIS is parked in the shadow of a towering oak tree, countless pairs of human eyes glossing over the thing-that-shouldn't-be-there without looking twice.

The Doctor has commandeered a bench. Commandeered. That did make it sound official. Mostly he's just taking up more than his fair share of it. He's trying to look thoroughly casual -- as if a man in a suit and a coat, all on his own, belongs in a sunny park on a Saturday. His sonic is in one hand, occasionally flipping on in what looks like a fidget but is in fact his best attempt at subtlety. The TARDIS had picked up something strange in this area, in this time, and he is determined to find out what. It had barely registered on his instruments to begin with, defying measurement and isn't that a puzzle. He can't pass up that sort of mystery.

So he's looking. He doesn't know what he's expecting to find, but no matter what his imagination might have cooked up, it's nowhere near what's waiting for him.

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[galaxys]

She's been in the parallel universe for a year or so now (trapped, although she's the only one who still thinks of it that way, her mum and dad and baby Tony perfectly settled and content.) Torchwood keeps her busy enough, a universe without the Doctor exceptionally more quiet than what she's used to. But Rose Tyler is used to bouncing through time and space, so she sets her mind to finding a way to travel through time again.

Of course, it's only to find him.

The device is glitchy and dangerous, and she still has superiors at Torchwood who disapprove. Rose works often in secret, afterhours, swiping a security code to get in unnoticed, and it's one of those evenings she's tinkering away when something strange happens. There's a quick moment where the room is filled with static electricity, her hair standing on end, goosebumps at the back of her neck, everything slowing and then screeching to a halt, and then--

She's in the park, in London, the sun shining on her face, the quiet thrum of people talking and living and being all around her. The device isn't in her hands anymore, not on the table in front of her, but there, there, sprawled across a bench taking up too much room, all limbs and stripes and spikey hair is her Doctor, not five feet away.

"It's you." It sound stupid to her own ears, staring back at him like he's a mirage, an illusion, like she's going to wake from the most perfect dream any moment now.

[thatsortofman]

He hears her voice, and it's an impossible thing. He knows it's an impossible thing, but he also knows that impossible things have a habit of stalking his footsteps more often than not. There's no way that Rose could be here, and he turns his gaze in the direction of that voice fully ready to find out he'd slipped off into a daydream and imagined it, imagined her. Instead his eyes fix on her, familiar despite all the time and space and realities that have come between them.

The Doctor is on his feet in the next moment, fumbling his sonic away inside his jacket, even as a smile stretches its way over his features. "Rose?"

His hearts trip their rhythm for a moment, skip a beat and then another as he just watches her. He half expects her to be a mirage. Maybe it's so hard to believe his eyes, his ears, because of how much he wants this to be true, wants her to be here. Really here. It's always harder to allow himself to believe something he so desperately wants to be true. The universe is capable of kindness; he's seen it. But it's a rare thing.

That doesn't stop him. He's in motion the next moment, closing that minimal space to sweep her up into a hug. "Rose Tyler! You must be what's confusing the TARDIS. No wonder she's confused."

[galaxys]

She’s grinning against the curve of his neck, holding onto him so hard it would take another act of universe conspiring trauma to break them apart, fingers clenching at the back of his suit.

"My Doctor. I’ve been looking all over for you. Literally." And this feels like an accidental miracle, like the parallel worlds are handing her a favor, easing back just enough so that she can take his face between both of her palms, positively radiant, beaming back at him. "Look at you, just the same."

It’s impossible to hide the adoration in her tone, the sheer relief, grateful to have found him again with this face (she’d Loved the last just as much, but this one feels made just for her.) "Are you alright?"

[thatsortofman]

He holds her like he never plans on letting go, on the border of too tight. She's here in his arms, in this reality. Solid and warm and soft and real. Rose leans back and he meets her gaze for a moment, smile on his face softening in a way that speaks volumes of the way his hearts have been aching all this time.

But she's right. Here he is with the same face -- well maybe with a few more miles on it, but even those feel like they fall away in this moment.

"How are you here? The ways between realities should have sealed tight. Locked and bolted with the security chain thrown..." But here she is.

He shakes his head, grin brightening again. "So much better than all right. Are you okay?"

[galaxys]

She hasn't dropped her hands from his face, re-memorizing the way he looks, that crooked smile, those sharp eyebrows, those warm brown eyes that have been in her dreams every night since she'd last saw him on a desolate beach in Norway. Rose shakes her head, shoulders lifting a little helplessly, almost giddy.

"I don't know! I was working, in the lab back in that world's Torchwood, and suddenly I was here, in the park standing in front of you. I'm still not so sure it's really happening!"

Breathless, she can't imagine letting him go now, nodding once, her grip shifting down to hold his shoulders instead. "I'm absolutely perfect now, aren't I? I'm here with you, Doctor... it's all I've wanted."

[thatsortofman]

Torchwood draws his attention for just a moment, and maybe that's explanation enough. The things they got into in this universe were enough that a bit of slippage from one reality to another was, well, not out of the realm of possibility. Still, hearing that it was apparently something accidental, some odd twist of fate, that has him wondering all the more. Sometimes timelines twist up like that, twine together because it's the only way for them to exist. Fate or destiny, kismet, all words to put a poetic spin on the fact that sometimes time had certain patterns that needed to be for the sake of reality. Any reality.

Maybe it's wishful thinking. He can admit that he wants it to be true, wants Rose to be meant to be here, since losing her again, saying goodbye again so soon, he thinks it might break something in him. Something that Rose helped him put back together in the first place.

So his expression softens, a smile, even if there's almost a sadness to it -- strange, since there's not a single shred of sorrow in this moment. "I've missed you, Rose. I've missed you so much." Even he, clever as he is, doesn't have the words to say it properly.

[galaxys]

That’s all she needs to hear — almost; every night she’s dreamt of the Doctor standing on that empty beach in Norway, the last of the most important words she might ever have heard cut off by the walls of the parallel worlds closing between them, trapped in either side. Torchwood had been their accidental creation and their untimely undoing.

His words now, so sincere her heart nearly breaks all over again, leave her reeling, grateful for his secure grip, appreciating the moment to take him in, lifting a hand back up to his face. "I’ve missed you, so much. It’s hard to remember who I am, without you." Rose settles her other hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of two separate pulses beneath her palm, giving him another smile, slightly more bashful now that she’s starting to gather her senses again.

"I’m back where I’m meant to be, with you." She can’t tell if she’s saddened or relieved to find him alone, without a traveling companion. She can have him all to herself, even if it’s just for a little while.

[thatsortofman]

"Hard to remember? Oh no that can't be right. You're impossible to forget. Rose Tyler. Woman who saved the universe, several universes really, who stared down Daleks and Cybermen and Werewolves and never backed off." Brave and stubborn and beautiful and above all kind. Rose has always cared so much, and god he'd needed that more than anything when he'd met her. He wonders sometimes if she understands how she saved him, how much she'd helped him.

Even now, he thinks something in him is healing again just seeing her smile. He sets his hand atop hers at his chest, thumb tracing slowly along the back of her knuckles. Where she's meant to be. Oh he wants to believe it.

Part of him worries about this. When has the universe ever been so generous, so plainly kind? He steps back then, but he shifts his hand to take hers, like he's not quite ready to let go for fear she might vanish when he does. "Come on, I'm sure the TARDIS has missed you too."

[galaxys]

She is giddy now, thrilled with the prospect of seeing the TARDIS again, squeezing his hand as she lets him lead her towards the big blue box standing innocuously in a grove of trees. Rose is just as reluctant to let him go either, now or ever, too happy to consider the consequences of the universe giving them this gift. Because that's exactly what it is to her, accident or not.

There's a moment before they step through the doors where Rose runs a friendly palm down the panel near the phone box itself, an affectionate greeting, love and familiarity there, and then: she steps in.

It's just what she remembered, straight out of her dreams just like he is, grinning over at him. "She's absolutely perfect, just like I remembered. I never want to leave."

[thatsortofman]

He watches her, watches the fond touch along the TARDIS, and only steps in after her half a second later. He pulls the door shut, sealing the world away for the time being. And in that moment he exhales a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She's really here, back in the familiar surroundings where they had spent so much time together, flung across time and space but safe and secure within the TARDIS.

The Doctor is quieter than he usually is, all the words that are usually so ready to spill out of him in a burst of whatever emotion has taken him are still and absent.

Rose. His Rose. His chest aches, but it's a sweet sort of pain. "Then stay. As long as you can, stay." But that was the kicker wasn't it? He didn't know what brought her here, or if it would unravel and take her away again. But oh he planned on finding out.

[galaxys]

"Is forever alright by you?" She smiles, softer this time and it sounds like a joke but there’s an obvious tone of sincerity in her voice now that she’s had a moment to take all of this in, to find herself back on the TARDIS with her Doctor. It’s all she’s wanted for over a year, all she’d wanted before that, her old life plain and empty without him.

Rose feels his eyes on her as she makes a circuit around the center console and then finds her way back to him, immediately slipping her hand back into his, no hesitation, palms fitting together like they were meant to. "I know you’re going to try and find out how this all happened, Doctor, but for now, can we just enjoy it?" She wants to remind him as much as herself, to not get bogged down in questioning this kindness from the universe, that day on the beach in Norway far too fresh in her memories to waste a single second of this.

And so she steps closer to fold herself back against his chest, all of those lean lines and angles, arms winding around him, chin tucked over one shoulder. "Do you— do you remember what you were about to say to me? Before I was trapped on the other side?" A bold question, her gaze lowered even though she can’t see his face now, half holding her breath.

[thatsortofman]

She knows him too well, he realizes, as she speaks. She knows him. She's seen the worst parts of him really, all those sharper edges, the anger and the rage and the scars of battle so newly fought. She's so much of the reason he managed to be more than that.

He wraps his fingers around her hand, holding tightly. He has the grace to look vaguely sheepish, somewhere around the corners of the smile that's taken residence across his lips, as she calls him out on that. "Yes, yeah. For now, of course." For now. But he will need answers, eventually. He knows himself well enough for that.

His arms wrap tightly around Rose as she steps in once more, turning his head just enough to brush his cheek to soft blonde hair. He stills at the question though, a subtle tension that races through him and only has his embrace tightening. "I remember. Bit hard to forget, really..." he trails off. The things left unsaid were always the hardest, weren't they, the sort of regrets that tore a place in his soul apart and made a permanent residence for themselves. A breath, and he wonders at himself, at how three simple syllables can be so difficult to speak when oh he means them with every last cell of his being.

"I love you," he manages, but they're spoken in a whisper, like they're too delicate for any more volume.

[galaxys]

She nearly expects him to balk, to back down, not to brush her off but to skirt the question (he's good at that, she knows that, too.) But Rose has held on to that unfinished sentence for so long that she can't help but ask, swearing she can feel both of his hearts beating against her, biting down on her bottom lip when she feels him tense.

And then it's her own heart crashing against her ribs, eyes widening over his shoulder, finding the courage to lean back so that she can see his face, the both of them a little afraid and vulnerable; there may have been others for him, but Rose Tyler has only ever loved the Doctor.

Rose can't help this next part, either, the way she holds his face between her hands again, smoothing a thumb beneath one eye before she leans up, just slightly on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth softly to his as she dares to let her eyes shut. She's kissed him before, a different face, a hazy memory, but nothing like this, warm from head to toe, bursting with sheer affection, relief, joy.

so sorry for the delay on this

[thatsortofman]

The Doctor knows heartache. He knows it intimately, an old friend who has traveled with him longer than anyone else. He's known it with Rose, that day on that barren beach, knowing that he'd never see her face, hear her voice again. But now she's hear and that ache has changed to something sweeter. There's a vulnerability in his own expression -- not unheard of, but rare that it makes it all the way to the surface.

But the words are spoken, let loose into the world, and he meets Rose's gaze, the faintest flicker of smile over his lips. For once in his life, he doesn't have anything else to say. H watches her, silent still, soaking in the softness of that touch.

And then her lips are on his and he's kissing her back, like the touch of her lips are the catalyst of some reaction that's been waiting all this time. He kisses her back, just as soft, just as gentle, winding his arms around her securely. His Rose.

no worries at all!

[galaxys]

She's almost surprised when he kisses her back, still half expecting him to bolt, all long nervous limbs and energy. But he doesn't, he holds her like she's everything and she feels the same way for him. Rose Tyler and the Doctor in the TARDIS again, where they both belong, where she's always wanted to be. Rose makes a soft little sound against his mouth, one hand shifting up into the back of his hair, holding him gently as she leans back to get a better look at him again, cheeks flushed, eyes dark, all very human.

"Blimey..." she breathes out, mouth tingling, blinking slowly up at him. "I've been waiting a long time for that." A pause, a little cheeky now, half smiling. "Have you?"

[thatsortofman]

All very human and all the sort of beautiful that should be classified as a dangerous weapon across multiple galaxies -- all the more when she talks, when she smiles. He feels himself grinning despite himself, looking upward for a moment as though he's considering, thoughtful.

"Oh... well. You know you're not supposed to kiss and tell, isn't that what they say?" he teases back, even if that is in no way at all how that saying is meant to work. His expression softens, and he lifts a hand to brush back some of that blonde hair, fingertips lingering along her cheekbone softly.

"Too long, I think."

[galaxys]

That surprises her a little as well, although she feels even more reassured when he smiles at her like that, when he touches her hair and her face. Perhaps absence really does make the heart grow fonder-- the Doctor is usually wordy in nearly everything except in regards to himself, and Rose has spent a lot of her time traveling with him trying to parse what he's thinking, how he's feeling, what's going on in that 900 year old brain.

But now he lets her see it plainly, tells her so, I love yous exchanged and it's almost more than she'd ever expected but everything she's wanted. She smiles back at him, radiant and adoring and leans back in to hug him tightly, arms curled around his neck, tucking her face into his shoulder. "I feel like I'm home when I'm with you. I don't want to lose that again. I don't want to lose you, Doctor."

[thatsortofman]

He's spent a lot of time with these words in particular, with the missed chance to speak them, when they'd faded away from one another, already worlds away. The Doctor has turned them over and over in his mind again and again since then, wondering if speaking them would have made things worse. Wondering if it would have helped. In the end, he'd settled on not wanting to miss the chance this time around.

Summoning up another smile, he tightens his arms around her in a proper hug. "Then, welcome home, Rose Tyler." He steps back now, far enough that he can lean back against the edge of the console. "You remember the place, yeah? Don't need to give you directions to the loo again?" He can't keep the grin from his face despite his best attempts.

His expression sobers in the next moment, however. "We are going to need to figure out how you're here. What brought you here, and what drew the TARDIS in. Too much for a coincidence, don't you think? And more than that..." a pause, and he looks at her, dark eyes full of so many things that don't even have proper words, "...I need to make sure it won't go and reverse itself." He doesn't want to lose her again.