#awahh

Pulling her key from its place around her neck, she’s about to put it in the lock when the door opens. “Oh!” says Rose, startled; she drops the key and drops to a crouch to look for it.

“Here,” says a warm female voice, barely a foot from where Rose is searching. She looks up into grey eyes flecked with gold. “You shouldn’t lose this,” says the woman, taking Rose’s hand with one of hers and folding the key into it with the other. “You’re going to need it someday.”

Rose’s skin sings at the contact. She looks at her hand, then up again into those eyes. She knows, but she has to ask.

“Doctor?”

The answering grin is nearly blinding. “Rose.”

“This is...unexpected.”

“Tell me about it. The first day or so I had to keep asking why people were calling me madam.”

Rose laughs, her thoughts whirling. She and the Doctor help each other to stand and Rose is startled to see she is nearly eye to eye with the Doctor.

The Doctor takes a step back, hovering in the TARDIS doorway, chewing on her lip. She looks self-conscious, unsure of herself, and Rose is reminded--surprisingly fondly, considering they’d been in peril, as usual--of the day she saw the Doctor regenerate and he asked her how he looked.

Closing the gap between them, Rose puts a finger to the Doctor’s lips. She shivers at the touch, but can’t think about that right now. “You get that from me,” she tells the Doctor, the corner of her mouth turning up in an almost smirk.

“What?” asks the Doctor. Her eyes are wide and innocent.

“I’ve spent loads of time with two of your past selves, and met several others. None of them chewed on their lip when they were nervous. But I do it all the time. You get it from me.”

“I--” starts the Doctor, but before she can get properly going, Rose gasps.

Because now she’s gotten a chance to really look at this new Doctor. Blond hair, nearly the same color eyes, wide smile, similar builds….

“You look like me!”

“It’s been so noted,” she says, her voice dry.

Rose can’t help it. She’s overcome by giggles. “That is a tone I’ve heard before. Clear blue eyes, Scottish accent? You’re not far from that body, are you. Still got a bit of him shinin’ through at times?”

The Doctor blushes.

“Ooh. I like it when you do that.” Rose says. “I hope I get the chance to make you do it again.”

Their eyes meet, love and hope bound together.

“This is alright, then?” The Doctor gestures at herself.

“You’re my Doctor,” Rose says simply. “I promised you forever, didn’t I? Nothing can ever change that. Nothing.”

“Nothing,” the Doctor echoes.

Rose takes the Doctor’s face in her hands, presses a kiss to her lips.

It is chaste, and soft, and Rose feels it all the way to her toes.

After a moment she says under her breath, “So strange.”

“What?” asks the Doctor. A bit of insecurity flashes back into her eyes.

Rose grins with mischief. “Not having to get on my toes to kiss you.”

She’s barely gotten the words out when the Doctor is kissing her again. And again.

And then she stops and grins. “Alright, as much as I’d like to do that all day, I’m sure you’ve realized you’re here for a reason, that I’ve got something to tell you.” She takes Rose’s hands in hers, their foreheads almost touching.

Rose nods. “I’ve been listenin’. Though I don’t understand. Not really.”

“You will. I believe in you, Rose.”

It’s Rose’s turn to blush.

“It’s an easy one this time.” The Doctor smiles, and Rose’s insides melt a little more. “It’s just this: don’t be afraid. You’ve got some tough times coming, but you are so strong, Rose. And good things are coming too. And if you do happen to feel a little fear...well, just use it to make you stronger. Keep going.”

“I’ll always keep going,” Rose says. Forever.

“I know.”

The Doctor nods toward the forest, towards the bit of water through the trees. Wordlessly they begin to walk, hand in hand.

“I only have 27 minutes left.”

“I know.”

Rose looks at her Doctor, exasperated but with laughing eyes. “Have you been watching Star Wars again? Because I swear, if I say I love you and--”

“I love you too, Rose.”

_____

Almost as soon as she has the thought her outstretched palms strike something hard and smooth; thankfully she has the reflexes to stop herself before her face has the same pleasure. Pulling away the hair that’s plastered to her face she squints upward, hoping to find a balcony or awning blocking the rain but there’s nothing, nothing but fat raindrops and a hint of roiling clouds far above. And then she realizes: she can see the rain pouring down, but nothing is hitting her face. How is that possible? She looks more closely at what she’s standing against and almost laughs.

She’s huddled against the front doors of the TARDIS.

“Thanks, old girl,” she says, leaning her forehead against the worn wood. “You could sense me out here, and shared a bit of your protection. You never stop saving me, do you.”

She feels the answering hum in the back of her mind, comforting and amused.

Grinning, she reaches for her key, but before she’s even halfway to it the door is thrown open and a man pops out. His eyes widen in surprise and delight.

“Rose! I thought you…well, nevermind. Come in, come in, get out of this rain. Can hardly call this rain, can we. Cats and dogs, this. Better get inside before it starts to meow!”

Inside, the man tosses Rose a towel and she begins to dry her hair. She gets a better look at him in the process, this man she has no doubt is the Doctor. Light brown hair flopping over his eyes, tweed jacket, bow tie. He walks around the console poking at things, surreptitiously watching her dry her hair.

After a minute of silence he bounds over to her, tweaking her sleeve. “I love the jacket, Rose. Amy!” It takes a moment before she realizes that this last had been directed at someone else, and by then he’s gone on. “..should come see Rose’s…” And this his words trail off, and his expression changes in some subtle way Rose can’t define. “Nevermind. We’re at this bit. Hold on, got to get my lines right.” He offers Rose a smile, then tries to look serious. She doesn’t think it’s a look this particular face uses very often.

“I’m the Doctor, by the way,” he says, the silly grin slipping back onto his face.

“I got that,” says Rose, and she can’t help but smile back at him. “You couldn’t possibly be anyone else. Always with the questionable fashion choices.”

He looks affronted, tugging on the lapels of his jacket. “What’s that supposed to mean? I wear bowties now, bowties are cool.”

“Right,” says Rose. She manages to hold it in for three seconds, then she bursts out laughing.

“Some things never change,” he mutters.

Something flutters in her chest at that. Memories wash over her, not of this face, but of laughing with the Doctor. He looks at her with an odd look in his eye, and she quiets.

“You had something to say?” she says.

He stands tall, straightens his bowtie. “Right.” He grins again, rubbing his hands together. “This is fun, having memorization and giving a performance. It’s like I’m in a panto.”

“Doctor! I’m pretty sure this is important! The others said so, anyway.”

He looks confused. “The others? But that doesn’t make any sense, I should be...oh, but don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. It’s all wibbly-wobbly anyway. I’d probably end up causing all sorts of trouble if I kept asking quest--”

“Doctor!”

She can’t get a grip on this Doctor; he slips through her fingers like falling rain. He flits around like a butterfly, all grins and giggles, but he hasn’t even tried to touch her yet (she doesn’t count touching her sleeve). He keeps talking to her as if she’s supposed to understand the unspoken half of the conversation. And he seems to be allergic to serious conversation. She’d like to put a hand on his cheek, ask him what happened, but she doesn’t want to risk him not answering.

“Right, right, important, lines, lives in peril, universes hanging in the balance…”

“Doctor!”

Chastised, he straightens his already perfect bowtie again.

With a deep breath--and arms gesturing dramatically--he declaims, “When you find me--the earlier, skinnier me--run fast. Fast as you can. Drop whatever you’re carrying and run.”

Slumping against the console, Rose sighs. “It’s mostly the same thing, over and over. Run. The drop whatever I’m carrying is new, though. I don’t carry things when I hop, not ever. I don’t…”

And then the Doctor is there, and the odd tension she’s felt since she stepped through the TARDIS doors disappears when he puts his arms around her. She sinks into his embrace, and his familiar scent comforts her as much as his touch.

“Rose, Rose,” he murmurs into her hair. “It’s alright. It’s not going to be easy, but,” he tilts her face up to his and looks deep into her eyes, “it’s going to be okay. And you won’t have to go through it alone. I promise.”

His breath in her hair, his finger against her chin, his body pressed against hers, all of it reassures her.

“I just miss you, Doctor,” she whispers.

“You’re almost there, Rose Tyler. Almost there.”

He glances over her shoulder and says, “Rain’s still pouring down out there. I could make you some tea before you have to go?”

What she wants is to stay exactly right here, but she nods anyway. “Tea, and maybe some dry clothes? Got any of my old things around anywhere?”

Again she sees an odd look cross his face, but in a blink it’s gone, replaced by glee. “Got something better! Stand riiiiight--” he holds her shoulders, moves her gently, positions her in a seemingly random spot on the console room floor, “here.” He grins, flips a toggle on the console, and she’s enveloped by soothing heat, and just like that she’s dry.

“Brilliant!” Rose says, and she reaches out to find her Doctor’s hand.

_____

@doctorroseprompts

_____

He tilts his head, and she can see that she’s examining his memories and her face simultaneously.

“You’ve got me at a disadvantage, I think. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” He takes her hand in his, raises it to brush a soft kiss across her knuckles.

“Rose Tyler,” she says, her breath catching.

“Well met, Rose Tyler.” His smile makes her heart flutter. “And how do you know--” He stops, his eyes fixed on hers.

They remain just as they are, frozen in time, until the Doctor finally blinks, then speaks. “I see something in you.” His voice is low and holds a hint of...something she can’t quite place. Confusion? Longing? But her own mind is jumbled, lost as she is in his gaze.

Her smile is shaky at best. “I--”

“No,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “Don’t tell me. Please. I can see that our futures are entangled, and I’d...well, I’d like to discover things for myself. I think.” His smile is charming and sincere, and she feels herself relax.

“Alright,” she says. “No details. Although you already know my name. And that I’m from your future. Can I tell you just one more thing? It’s not a spoiler, I promise.”

His eyes dance. “What’s that then, Rose Tyler from the future?”

Her name in his voice does unexpected things to her. Suddenly she’s wishing for more than her allotted forty minutes. The ticking rises in her ears. She ignores it.

“Wait a minute, did you hear that?” The Doctor’s voice bursts into her wandering thoughts.

Rose bites her lip, not wanting to admit she’d been daydreaming about his voice. “Um, hear what?”

“I thought I heard… But it can’t be…” He whirls around around as he speaks, even darting around to check the other side of the TARDIS.

“Doctor, what--”

“The howl of a wolf.”

The hair on Rose’s arms stands up. She hadn’t heard the howl, but she’s sure he had.

“But that’s impossible,” he says, trying to brush it off. “Surely there are no wolves running around in...what city are we in again?”

“Barcelona.” Rose can’t look at him when she says this. Of course this isn’t exactly where the Doctor was going to take her, no dogs with no noses here, but standing in this city with another Doctor…

Rose cries out, a hiccoughing, laughing sob, and she hides her face in her hands.

“It’s alright Rose,” says the Doctor, and then his arms are holding her. It’s a perfect fit, as always, and even though she feels lost, she knows she will someday be found. And right now, in this moment, she is safe.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence Rose says, “Thank you, Doctor. I really needed that. I can’t explain, but someday, a very long time from now, you’ll look back on this moment and you’ll understand.”

He nods with the wisdom of someone who has lived for hundreds of years. “Not at all uncommon in the life of a Time Lord, I’m afraid.”

“How do you get used to it?” she bursts out.

He just looks at her, a bit startled.

She gestures a bit wildly. “All of it. Life out of order. Voices from your past intruding on your present. Every day I feel like there are more ghosts following me. And I…” She hadn’t meant to ask, hadn’t really meant to say any of it, but she finds that now she really wants an answer, so she finishes softly, “And most days I think they know more than I do.”

Clearly torn between helping her and not asking too many questions, he says carefully. “It can make life a bit complicated at times, I’ll admit. But I get by. Most often by not going through it alone.”

“That’s right,” she says, her voice echoing with sadness. She kisses him softly on his cheek, then takes a measured step back. “That’s what you’ve got us humans for.”

He touches his cheek, looks like he’s going to ask a question, then changes his mind. Finally he says, “What were you going to say, before? The non-spoiler one more thing?” He winks.

Rose smiles. She still has a few tears on her cheeks, but she’s feeling a little more like herself. “Just that I’m really, really glad to meet you, Doctor.”

_____

This chapter is dedicated to @gingerteaonthetardis ...because she understands. 😉

_____

He’s alone, walking up the steps to the National Gallery, leather jacket flapping behind him. She thinks she actually remembers this day--she spent the afternoon with her mum and when they met up in the evening he spent 45 minutes rambling on about van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

So she wonders: did he ramble on about the painting because he didn’t want her to know he saw a later version of her? Or does he really just like the painting that much? Then she laughs. Of course he likes the painting that much. The Doctor is passionate and enthusiastic about everything. Remember when he talked about bananas for three hours straight? Or the two hour lecture on Great Expectations? She laughs more, she can’t help it, forgetting that she’s trying to hide.

The Doctor turns at the sound of her laugh. “Rose? I thought you were…” His voice trails off as she steps out of the shadow of the pillar and he truly sees her. “Ah. I see. You’re Rose, but later.” His voice is guarded, less affectionate than usual. “So I have to wonder two things. How are you here, and why are you here?”

Rose blinks hard and fast, determined to stop any tears before they fill her eyes. It hurts, hearing him talk like this to her, almost like he doesn’t trust her, after everything they’ve been through together.

Before she can say anything he continues. “Did I send you? That doesn’t seem quite right, I don’t feel another TARDIS about. Was it Jack? I hope not, those vortex manipulators are—“

“Stop interrogating me!” Rose bursts out. The tears she’s been trying so hard to contain overflow. “Can’t I just be happy to see you?” Eyes wide, she claps a hand over her mouth.

And now there’s a look on his face she never wants to see again. Is it sympathy? Pity? She can’t quite name it, but she wants to ease it, and quickly. “It’s just…” She touches his cheek with the fingertips of one hand, the kiss of a butterfly. “Your face changes. I got used to it--it’s still you under the new hair and cheeky grin--but…” She takes a calming breath, then smiles. It’s a shaky smile, but it’s true. Slipping a hand into his, she says simply, “It’s good to see you.”

He squeezes her hand and smiles back at her, the first smile she’s seen on this face in far too long. “It’s good to see you too, Rose Tyler.”

Even as her heart lifts she hears the ever-present ticking in her ears. “I haven’t got much time, Doctor. A little less than an hour. But maybe you could show me some of the museum? Van Gogh?”

He grins. “That’s just where I was headed. Fantastic!” He tugs her toward the doors, chattering as they go. “Did I ever tell you about van Gogh’s Sunflowers?”

She’s nearly overcome by giggles again. Somehow she manages to hold them back, saying instead, “Tell me.”

___