Marie Chambers

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, and he is shocked by his own sincerity, by how much he means those words. He can feel the depth of their truth down to his very being. “Nothing, Rose Tyler, is wrong!”

He twirls her around suddenly. Laughter; deep, happy carefree laughter bubbling up somewhere deep inside him and letting itself loose in a torrent. She laughs, a delighted laugh, right alongside him and he would be hard pressed to remember ever having heard a more beautiful sound.

He twirls her once more till she is deep in his embrace again, arms wrapped tightly around one another. His lips immediately find hers again. If their first kiss had been chaste and the second tender, this one is needy and wanting. Teeth nipping and lips bruising and tongues plunging as they mold themselves to one another.

He had found her at her flat. Searched through a phonebook until he had tracked her down. He had knocked at her door, nervousness bubbling up inside him as he had waited for her to answer. What would he find, he’d wondered? Would she be old and gray now? Would he be too late? Would she perhaps be married, little blonde children running about? Still his desire to see her had outweighed all those fears and he had waited for her to answer, wrapped in a fresh blue suit, swirly tie, and carefully styled hair.

Now it seems, as he is pulled roughly inside and slammed against a nearby wall, that his fears had been for wont.

His hands roam restlessly down her sides, while hers launch straight for his hair, fingernails scraping lovingly against his scalp. He can do nothing to stop the moan from falling loudly from his mouth, only to be muffled by her lips.

His hands venture underneath her shirt, desperate to contact skin, and when he does he is awarded for his trouble with a slight hitch in her breath, mouths disconnecting roughly as they both desperately drink in the other’s gaze. “I missed you.” He can no more help the words falling from his lips then he can help himself from kissing her once more.

She pulls away abruptly from him with a wet pop and she studies his face with a slightly perplexed look. “Y-you haven’t even-” here she takes a big gulp of breath, “been gone that long.”

“Maybe not for you,” he answers. For it was true, he had no idea when he had shown up in her timeline, but perhaps for her it had only been days since that wretched day on that wretched beach. Still he is a little startled by her words because surely even that time apart had been too long. There is no doubt that it had been for him. “It’s been way too long, since I last saw your smile.” He lightly traces her swollen lips. “Too long since I heard you laugh. Since I held you in my arms.” He tightens his embrace around her, closing his eyes and letting out a shuddering sigh, intent on never letting her go again.

When he opens his eyes again, determined to memorize every last one of her features, he is met with furrowed eyebrows and a confused expression.

“Doctor-” she starts. But he won’t let her finish. He has already reversed their position, pushing her so that her back is against the wall and frantically kissing her lips again. He can’t do with all this talking anymore. He just needs to feel her. Finally be able to touch her, when for so long all he saw in his dreams was her tearstained face, hand outstretched-

“Can I t-”

“I’m still just an image. No touch.”

But now he can, now nothing is going to stop him from kissing her, from touching her. His mouth is aggressive against hers, hands skating her sides, finding their way under her shirt, on her lower back. So much skin, so much touching-

So occupied is he, that the small clicking noise of the door opening doesn't even register over the rushing sound in his ears.

“It would seem,” a voice says, lightly. An eerily familiar voice. “That you are kissing my wife.”

Utterly and completely gobsmacked the Doctor pulls away from Rose. She wears a similar expression of shock as her eyes connect with someone over his shoulder. She lets loose a soft gasp, one trembling hand touching her lips. He is breathing heavy, eyes still on her. He can’t bring himself to turn around. He knows that voice. Oh god, he knows that voice. But it was...no it was impossible.

Suddenly he feels Rose’s hands jump to his chest, feeling both of his hearts beating erratically underneath her palm. “How did I miss-” her voice chokes off, and to his dismay he sees her eyes fill with tears.

“Oh Doctor,” she whispers. Then her arms wrap tightly around him again, all the former urgency gone, only tenderness behind her touch now. “It’s good to see you,” she whispers.

He can entirely agree with that sentiment, really he can. But how can she focus on that when that was his voice coming from behind them. His voice. Calling Rose his wife. What the hell was going on?

“Rose,” he says softly in her ear, “Rose, is that...me behind us?”

“I should certainly hope so,” he hears his own damn voice pipe up cheerily. “I don’t think many other husbands would be so okay coming home to find their wife snogging another man up against a wall. Seeing as you’re me, weeelll, kind of, technically, in a way-Anyway! I think I can let it slide...maybe.” He can almost feel the grin radiating from the other man, but really all his admittedly impressive Time Lord brain can really focus on are two words.

“Husband!” he rasps out. “Wife!”

He has yet to turn around, as he is still tangled up with Rose. Rose whose mouth is gaping open and whose face is pale. His hands automatically grip her tighter when he feels her stumble.

“Doctor?” she says, but her eyes are not focused on him, but on his future self.

“Hello Rose,” the other man says. And finally he is able to find the courage to disentangle himself enough to turn and get a good look at...himself.

The man in front of him is also adorned in a blue suit, but no tie. Instead he has a few buttons on the light blue oxford he wears underneath his suit casually undone. His hair appears a little more wild than he himself usually likes to keep it. His expression is open, more open than he can ever imagine his face to look, and almost a little...amused. But this was himself standing in front of him and he knows better than anyone how to read between the lines. Beneath the amusement there is a decidedly worried look on the other man’s face, complete with subtle lines creasing his forehead.

It was always an odd experience meeting himself, and more often than not he tried to avoid it. It was even odder though, when he was meeting himself when he was still in the same incarnation.

He looks back to Rose as she looks between them both, biting her lip (and oh if that doesn't remind him of what they’d been doing right before they were interrupted...). “Doctor,” she says a little cautiously, eyes still focused on the man behind them. Then her eyes dart to him then back as if she can’t decide which one she wants to address. He decides for her, picking up her hand and lightly holding it in front of his face.

There sits a ring on the finger of her left hand and his breath hitches at the sight of it. It is a simple ring with a diamond sitting on top of a delicate silver band that is etched in Gallifreyan. Forever, it says, both of our forevers. He feels his throat go tight with emotion.

“Rose,” he whispers hoarsely. There are no words.

How had they gotten to this point? As much as every cell in his body desires her, wants her, he could not have ever imagined this. Married. Something so domestic as marriage and a flat and living in one time, in Pete’s World no less? Could it be that they, his future self and Rose were just here for a visit? That he had found a way to safely cross the void so that she could visit her mum. That this flat was only for when they visited her? So many questions with answers he couldn’t know, because he needed to leave. Every second he stayed here was dangerous, the time lines at stake. He needed to leave.

He drops Rose’s hand, taking a step back towards the door, throat working. “I-”

“I know what you’re thinking,” his future self says gently, kindly. He wants to lash out in response, but he holds his tongue.

Rose meanwhile has taken an anguished step towards him. He wants more than anything to wrap her in his arms again, for her to comfort him, to explain, but he keeps his distance. Coward, every time.

“It’s very hard to explain,” the other man continues.

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” he says blithely. “And you really shouldn’t tell me anything anyway. Time lines and all that. I should go.”

He is blunt, if only to stop himself from breaking down. How can he leave when he’s just found her again? While it is comforting to know he will indeed see her again, it doesn’t stop it from hurting to know that now is still not the right moment. How much longer would he have to wait? Days or Months or Years? And time was still always in flux, the fickle mistress that she was, and this was only one potential future of many. How could he possibly bring himself to leave, knowing all that? He hesitates, hand outstretched to the door knob.

“Please don’t go yet,” Rose suddenly speaks, looking at him in a way he isn’t quite sure he understands. There are so many different conflicting emotion in her eyes. Hurt and anguish mixed with tenderness and love. They way she is looking at him, it is as if there is something deeper here that he isn’t quite understanding yet. He doesn’t dare hope that this is truly his future, not when there is still so much that is not clear. And especially not when she is looking at him like that.

“I-“ he says, feeling lost and helpless. He is starting to think that not knowing what is in store for him in the future would be much preferable to this unsteady ground he now stands on.

“I remember this you know,” the other him speaks in that sickeningly kind tone. “My point is, I know for a fact that you don’t have to leave quite yet, if that helps sort things out in your head…our head?” The other Doctor touches his tongue to his teeth. “Pronouns can be kind of tricky when you’re a time traveller, huh?”

“You can say that again,” Rose mutters, but she is hiding a smile as she says it and his heart stutters at the sight. God, she was just as radiant as she had always been, and even more so now. The stance of her shoulders spoke of a confidence and self-acceptance that was new and, quite frankly, enticingly sexy. If the other Doctor’s assurance of how things should play out wasn’t enough, he was quite certain that the dip of Rose’s collarbone, the pout of her lips, the sweeping of her hair against her neck, all might have been just enough to have convinced him to stay regardless.

“Okay then,” he says, sighing as he drops his hand from the doorknob. “If you’re sure, I suppose a few more minutes won’t hurt.”

“C’mere,” Rose says, her eyes soft as she pulls him into another hug. He sighs, closing his eyes and savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of her in his arms. The Doctor is only vaguely aware of the other Doctor slipping out of the room, giving them some privacy.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Rose breathes out, gazing up at him, tracing her fingertip down his cheek in a way that makes him shudder. “I can’t believe-how did you even get here?”

“Welllll,” he replies, drawing out the word in the way he knows will make her beam at him. He finds that if he only has these few moments with her before he has to leave her again for who knows how long, he wants to remember what it feels like to banter with her, to be them together. “I am sort of brilliant if you recall. Hope I haven’t lost my touch in my old age.” He gestures to where the other Doctor had been just moments ago. Briefly, something indecipherable crosses Rose’s eyes, but it is just as soon gone and replaced by an easy tongue-in-teeth smile.

“You haven’t,” she promises. “Trust me.”

He grins at her and her answering smile is brighter than the sun he had burned up to say goodbye to her.

“Can I kiss you again,” he blurts out. There is a small, minuscule, gut-wrenching moment where she looks conflicted, her eyes darting towards the door like she is worried how his other self would feel about all this. But it is gone as soon as it comes, replaced by what he knows is her making up her own mind, deciding for herself what she wants.

“Not if I kiss you first,” she says, before closing the gap.

They spend the rest of the day like this, wrapped up together, soaking in these few short hours, enjoying easy touches and kisses and sharing stories about their time apart. Rose, the experienced time traveller that she is, remains vague as she speaks, sharing harmless tidbits about her life. She goes so far as to leave him out of any and all stories she tells. Though he is desperately curious to dive deeper into some of the accomplishments she describes, civilizations she has helped save, he does his best to bite his tongue for once and simply listen and soak it all in. It seems he had not been remotely wrong when he had called her Defender of the Earth that day on the beach. While her success does not in the least bit surprise him, it does make his heart swell with pride.

Looking at her, the Doctor thinks that maybe he can dare hope to have this sort of future with her. Somewhat domestic perhaps, if the pictures he’d glimpsed hanging on the walls were any indication, but still absolutely brilliant in it’s own way. It was still her, still the same Rose Tyler, tangled in starlight and time and all things alien, that much was clear. Did he dare hope, that this little slice of heaven could be waiting in his future? He wanted to dare to hope. That was what Rose had given him after all, that first day they had met. Hope for a better future. He truly, desperately wants to believe she can do it for him again.

A throat clears and the Doctor jumps a bit in surprise. The other Doctor stands in the doorway, his lips a thin, sad line and reality crashes back in hard like it always does.

“It’s time then,” he asks the other man in blue, who only nods in response. And it is true, the Doctor can feel it as if it were written in the timelines. If he doesn't leave now, he never will.

He stands up and Rose follows suit, grabbing his hand in hers and clasping it hard as if her willpower alone might stand against all of time itself. There is a part of him that thinks if she tried, she probably very well could.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. That-that you won’t be alone. Promise me that-“

“I promise,” he interrupts, cupping her cheek and dashing away the tears that are starting to gather in the corners of her eyes. “You’re acting as if you will never see me again, that I’m not standing but two feet away, apparently married to you and-“

He’d meant it as a sort of joke, something to make her smile, but she only sobs harder to his great dismay. “Oh Rose, don’t cry now.”

“I-I love you,” she says, and everything down to the way her voice cracks is achingly familiar. He wants to respond, he wants desperately to say those words and reassure her of how very much she means to him, but his throat is stuck and when he meets the gaze of his other self over Rose’s shoulder, the man shakes his head. It still isn’t time and it seems he will have to continue being a prisoner to the damn ticking of the clock.

Rose, his wonderful Rose, understands. She always understands him, more than he has ever deserved. He kisses her, hoping to convey what cannot be said with tongues and lips and teeth instead.

When they break apart he cups her cheek again and she closes her eyes, leaning into the touch. “I’ll see you again,” he says, more to reassure himself. She smiles a watery smile. “Yes, you’ll see me again. You’ll see me again, Doctor. That I can promise.”

There is something about the way she says it, something about the tone of her voice that leaves an unspoken, but I won’t be seeing you again. He wants to question it, wants to pick apart the words and the implications, but can’t bear to do so. Time is complicated and cruel and in flux and there is no point trying to unravel all the strings now. It would do no good. He just has to cling to the knowledge that he will see her again. That thought would have to keep him going.

“See you soon then, Rose Tyler,” he says, sweeping her into one last hug where she clings to him with all her might.

“Be happy, Doctor,” she responds. “Please, for me, be happy.”

A hand on his shoulder finally breaks them apart. His other self says nothing, but hands him an envelope.

“You’ll know when it’s time to read this,” the other man assures him.

The Doctor nods in understanding and then before he can talk himself into staying the night, staying the week, staying forever, he walks out the door and begins the trek back to the Tardis and back to his own universe

_______________________________________________________________________

His other self, his part-human self he knows now, had been right. The envelope feels like a weight in his hands and though he has yet to read it, he already knows what it says. He knows because the other man is him and thus knows exactly what he needs to hear right in this very moment. This moment where time stands in flux, the Tardis in the vortex with all his companions on board waiting for him to bring them home. There are possible paths, many of them, futures that he dares not explore because he already knows what his choice has to be because the envelope is already in his hand, making the decision for him.

He reads about their life together in Pete’s world. The stories Rose had told him in vague detail spilling out in their full magnificence on the page. He reads about the struggles, and the heart ache, and the love. He studies the pictures sent along with great interest. Rose with her family, smiling. Rose and his other self on their wedding day. Rose asleep next to what appears to be a growing baby Tardis.

Perhaps, the note finishes, it is selfish of me to give this all to you, but I would be a fool not to guard this future with everything that I am.

Quite right, too, the Doctor thinks as he makes his way back to the console room. He catches the eye of his other self and they share a knowing look. The damn lucky bastard.

She wants to deepen the kiss, throw a leg over his lap until she feels him hard underneath her. She wants to rake her hands in his hair and make him gasp and moan until neither of them can take it anymore and she finally sinks down on him. Taking him so deep. Her legs clench together at the thought and she lets out a sigh against his lips.

The Doctor pulls back, just a little, just enough so she can see the pleased and happy look on his face and just like that her arousal is pushed to the side for a feelings even more important and all-encompassing. It grows in her sternum, radiating out into every fiber of her being until she’s smiling just as stupidly as he is. Because god does she love this man.

His hand still resting on her cheek, moves to push a piece of wispy blonde hair back behind her ear. “How was that then?” he says softly, his voice getting carried away by the light breeze.

“Perfect,” she whispers, cuddling closer to him, resting her head over his two beating hearts. The Doctor wraps an arm around her shoulder.

Nothing more needs to be said.

______________________________________________________________________

If Rose had been shocked that the Doctor had kissed her during one of the most mundane, non-life threatening moments of their normally crazy lives, well it’s nothing like the shock that comes when his kisses continue to only come when everything is calm. And if still that hadn’t been shocking enough, they continue to be incredibly chaste, gentle, and gentlemanly, almost like a bloke kissing her after the first date. A bit nervous, a bit hesitant, and always only a handful of moments.

If Rose is honest with herself, she’s ready to grab him by the collar of his pinstriped suit, throw him up against the nearest vertical surface she can find, and snog the living daylights out of him. Honestly, if she doesn’t get his tongue in her mouth soon, she simply won’t be responsible for her actions.

It’s really not so surprising that she snaps. They’ve just gotten back to the TARDIS, both of them terribly out of breath from running for their lives and the Doctor sporting a black eye from where one of the natives had punched him straight in the face when he’d mentioned being good at fishing. Apparently, fishing meant something very different to the natives than it did to them.

They’d had to haul themselves back to the TARDIS with hordes of angry half-buffalo looking creatures stomping after them.

When Rose finally catches her breath, she sidles up close to him and gently traces the bruised, swelling skin. “My poor Doctor,” she coos at him.

“Ah this,” he blusters back, peering at her from his good eye. “Be healed up in a jiffy. Though, he did have quite a right hook on him. Blimey, usually don’t bruise so easily, me.”

Rose smiles at how endearing he is. Stepping up on her tiptoes, she places a feather light touch of her lips to the bruise. “There,” she says triumphantly. Then because she simply can’t help herself, she trails her lips over his skin, seeking out his lips as her hands work their way to the back of his neck.

She feels the fear from just moment’s ago, the adrenaline slowly fading from her bloodstream and her heart pumping for a completely different reason now. She goes slowly at first, as gentle as he usually is with her, but the longer their lips are pressed together the more hungry she becomes and her mouth opens over his, swiping her tongue across his bottom lips as she instinctively shift her hips against his and digs her hands into his hair, waiting for him to open his mouth.

The Doctor’s reaction is unexpected. He shies away from her, blush rising up on his face. “Ah,” he says, flailing his arms a bit and stumbling backwards hastily. “I...I should, umm, the dermal regenerator.” His voice squeaks up at the end and then he bolts from the console room.

Rose furrows her eyebrows, completely perplexed, and then follows after him.

When she makes it to the medbay, he’s already finished healing his eyes, the skin faintly pink where moments ago it had been black and blue.

“Doctor?” she says, and he jumps and spins around.

“You kissed me!” he says accusatorially. Rose blinks, not having expected the outburst.

“I did, yeah,” she says calmly. “Well, tried to at least.”

“Yes, you-you-” seemingly at a lack for words, he flails his arms at her. She has never once in her life seen the Doctor speechless.

“What’s wrong with you? Do I have to remind you that you give me kisses all the time now.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So, you did it first.”

The Doctor shifts in his trainers. “Exactly. I kiss you. And-and, you’ve never kissed me before. And it was-was-” His ears go pink.

Rose tries to follow the Doctor’s thought pattern, but can’t quite figure out what’s going on in that big alien brain of his. “I really don’t understand.”

The Doctor mumbles something.

“What was that now?”

“You should kiss me more,” he blurts out, finally.

Rose laughs a little, still confused. But delightfully confused now. “What?”

“You should kiss me more,” the Doctor stresses. “As in you,” he points at her, “kissing me,” he points at himself. “You initiating the kiss,” he continues. “You taking your lips and-”

“I get it Doctor,” Rose says, still giggling. She takes a step closer to him and he gulps, eyes focused on her every move. Loosely, she wraps her hands around his neck and presses her lips to his. Gentle, so gentle, the kind of kiss he would give to her. When their lips separate with a soft plop the Doctor groans and Rose jerks back a little in surprise. He’s never made a noise like that, kissing her before

He looks a bit sheepish, but keeps her close, his hands resting firmly on her waist.

“Are you going to explain to me what all this is about then?”

The Doctor tilts his head back and touches the top of his tongue to his teeth. “I was getting worried,” he finally admits, a slight look of vulnerability in his eyes. “That you perhaps didn’t want me kissing you.”

“Why in the world would you think that?”

He shrugs, looking away. “It’s customary isn’t it, for the female to, erm, set the pace on Earth. Like, like I kissed you to show you I was interested and then you, when you’re ready, you...up the stakes?”

Rose scrunches her brows together. “Where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugs, kicking at the ground. “Something you said once, about that bloke, Jimmy, who-who pressured you. I didn’t want you to think I was-”

“Oh Doctor,” Rose says, cupping his cheek tenderly and smiling when he leans into the touch. “You don’t have to worry about that. I can assure you that this is nothing like when I was dating Jimmy Stone.”

“Yeah?” the Doctor says, perking up. “So-so, I can-” he waves his hand all around in her general direction and Rose giggles.

“Yeah,” she says. “You can do all of that as much as you want,” she says, mirroring his gestures.

He wastes no time in crowding her up against the wall of the medbay, his lips pulled up into a smirk and his eyebrows raised. Rose’s heart rate spikes at the sudden unexpected move. All her thoughts scatter until only one word is left in her head. Finally.