#doomsday fix-it

She couldn't answer—not with words. She only barely managed a nod before a silvery arm whipped past them, and she ducked her head away. More came, some coming within inches of his own head.

He thought, in that moment, that this might be the end—and to his horror, he wouldn't even see it coming.

It felt interminable, the brightness and the wind. His fingers froze, and still he gripped tighter. But soon the flashes in his periphery seemed more white than silver. The wind was an uninterrupted scream, unbroken by the juddering howls of Daleks or half-issued Cyber commands. His eyes, now watering, left Rose, and turned to the abyss that seemed, almost impossibly, to be turning in on itself.

Closing.

"I've got to go," he said, turning his head back to his daughter—because she was his daughter, no matter what he'd told her before. It was impossible to look at her and not see the pieces of his Jackie, of himself in her stark jaw and soulful eyes, which blinked at him through tears and running makeup. "It's closing."

She seemed paralyzed by her horror. But he didn't have long. There wasn't time…

"I'll look out for Jackie," he said, speaking fast. His voice, usually so sure, was filled with emotion. "And I'll never forget you. How you saved two worlds. I'll never let Jackie forget either, as if she could."

His words earned him a smile, and Pete felt himself smiling too, even as the whistle intensified. His window was closing; his fingers loosened.

But he chanced one last thought. "I'm proud to have a daughter like you, Rose. In any universe."

A tear slipped down her cheek, so quickly he thought it might be an illusion. He wished he could wipe it away. It seemed the fatherly thing to do, and now he'd never get that chance.

"Dad," she said, voice breaking.

But it was too late. He was letting go, and losing his balance. He had only a second—just one horrible, endless second—to smack that big yellow button.

And he did, stumbling forward into a different world. Into Jackie's arms, which shook as they wrapped around him. It seemed dark without the pure light of the void. His legs bowed and steadied like he'd just got back from sea.

"Where's Rose?" Jackie had cried. "Where's my daughter?"

Pete Tyler could barely catch his breath, but he had enough in him to say, "She's safe. She's with the Doctor." He looked up, into Jackie's crystalline blue eyes. "She's safe."

✨

Time is a funny thing.

It seems an eternity between her letting go—or, Pete letting go of her—or the pull of the void letting go of them both—and when she hits the ground. But it can't be more than a second. Maybe two.

All she knows is when she lands, it hurts.

"Rose!"

The Doctor's voice sounds loud and clear and close, after the numbing volume of the wind. But that's because he is close. As she pushes herself up to her feet, wrists smarting, he is very close—running into her bodily with almost as much force as gravity itself.

They tumble backwards together. She hits the ground again, but this time, it doesn't hurt so much. It just feels like arms and legs and frantic hearts-beats, so fast and strong that she can feel them through his suit.

"Rose," he says, over and over. "Rose—Rose—Rose." Like he's been stripped of his entire vocabulary.

It makes her smile—makes her laugh, too, as she burrows into the welcome of his embrace, breathing in the scent of wool. "Can't get rid of me that easy," she rasps. Her throat is parched; she doesn't care. She tips her head up, or something like it. "Best not try it again, though."

"I won't." He answers so fast, there's not even an instant of hesitation. His arms go tighter around her. "Never, ever again."

He sounds like he means it.

She knows he does when the first kiss lands on her forehead—then her nose—then her chin. Before she can think better of it, she is returning the kisses. Little ones on his freckled cheeks, and his fluttery eyelids, and his permanently clean-shaved jaw.

One lands just right, and it's their lips, and she decides that all adventures ought to end this way.

Maybe a bit less sore. Maybe not rolling about on the floor.

But otherwise, just like this.

This, she believes, is the happiest of endings.

✨

"Did you mean it?" she'll ask, someday, in the future. "What you said, when Pete rescued me."

"I did. I'll never send you away again, Rose. I'll never leave you behind." They will be in a tight spot, when this conversation happens. The Doctor will be getting a bit shifty—a bit anxious about her safety and other such nonsense.

But he'll smile, and it will be a little guilty, because he'll have been thinking about it. Which is why she'll have brought it up.

She always knows.

"It never seems to stick, anyway," he'll add. Which will make her laugh, which in turn will make his smile a little brighter. "I've learned my lesson."

"Quite right, too," she'll reply, beaming away. "Guess that means you're stuck with me."

"Stuck with you," he'll say, "that's not so bad."

Rose choked back a sob and instead of pulling her hand back, she took his face in both of her hands. "Oh God, oh God, it's you," she sobbed and he nodded slowly, still grinning under her trembling touch.

"Yeah - yes, it's me." His voice broke. God, his voice. Rose's eyes plunged into his and the Doctor felt like drowning, it had been too long, too damn long and the smile blossoming on her lips was all he needed.

The Doctor pulled her close in the same moment that Rose flung her arms around him and then both were trembling, melting against each other. Minutes could have passed, whole eternities, for all they could care. Time stood still and all the Doctor heard was the erratic beating of their joined heartbeats and the sound of her breathless sobs into his neck. He hadn't stopped whispering her name over and over again and clutched her even tighter to him. And then Rose pulled back, only so much so she could look at his face and couldn't stop grinning. The Doctor's own eyes were red and still wet from tears and slowly, Rose raised her hands and gently wiped away the stray tears. The Doctor let out a breathless chuckle and couldn't quite believe his luck. Rose continued stroking his cheek and finally managed to whisper:

"I’ve missed you." His voice was rasp and thick from tears, a rough whisper when he spoke.

"Quite right, too," he offered and both chuckled at the irony.

"How long?", Rose asked quietly and smiled when now the Doctor reached out to gently wipe away her tears, his fingers so soft and careful as if he was afraid she might break under his hands.

"Two years" he told her, not quite finding his voice yet. Rose's heart was still drumming violently and she wondered if she would ever catch her breath. Her fingers slowly brushed down his face and rested on the pinstriped lapels of his suit. A trembling smile grew on her lips as she stroked her hands over the ever same material, and it felt like nothing had changed.

"Fourteen months," she told him then, meeting his eyes again. She almost gasped when the intensity of his stare hit her. The Doctor looked at her and cracked a light, apologetic smile, feeling new tears rise in his throat at her words, at hearing how long he had left her here.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it ealier." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible and Rose leaned closer as he leant down, his breath prickling on her skin and it felt like home when she rested her forehead against his.

"Why now?" she asked after a while, searching his eyes again, her hand finding his scruffy cheek again. The Doctor smiled like he hadn't in a long, long time now.

"Consider it a Christmas present." For a moment, they just stared at each other. And then Rose laughed. It bubbled up in her chest and then burst out of her, leaving her breathless and she startes crying again because there were too many emotions at once and the Doctor joined in with a breathless, happy, disbelieving chuckle as Rose buried her head in his chest, muffling her laughter and soon her sobs. Smiling sadly, he pressed a lingering kiss on the crown of her hair and wrapped his arms around her, holding her steady against him as she cried. Rose didn't even know why she was crying. But she felt overwhelmed with everything and now he gave her a stupid answer like that. God, how she had missed this. How she'd missed him.

"Rose?" she heard the Doctor mumble into her hair after some time when she'd calmed down again. She hummed against his chest, hiding her teary smile in his oxford. The Doctor rested his face on her head and closed his eyes, breathing her in.

"I love you," he finally told her with a smile and he felt so, so relieved. The words barely left his mouth when Rose froze in his arms. Slowly, she pulled back. Stared at him with wide, still tear - stained eyes. And for a moment she thought she hadn't quite heard him.

"Say that again," she requested, stunned, her voice a mere whisper. A slow smile spread on the Doctor's face and he lowered his head to whisper into her ear:

"Rose Tyler. I love you." He pulled back, his smile never faltering. Rose closed her eyes, her face suddenly just a few inches away from his.

"Again," she whispered and without wasting another breath, the Doctor gently grabbed her face with both of his hands and closed the gap between them and kissed her.

Instinctively, Rose wrapped her arms around his neck as the Doctor pulled her to him by the waist, drawing her closer still and she would have lost her balance had she not held on to his neck.

"Again," she breathed against his lips as they both gasped for air and the Doctor smirked, his eyes still closed. Rose escaped a chuckle as he started to pepper her face with kisses, repeating the same three words between each kiss. When he reached her lips, he gently kissed her again, suddenly tasting salt. Surprised, he pulled back and discovered her crying, still smiling. With a soft, loving smile he brushed a thumb across both of her cheeks, so relieved to finally being able to do this, the feeling of desperation when he couldn't that day at the beach still lingering inside of him.

"Something went wrong, don't you think?", he whispered hoarsely. "All I’ve done so far has been making you cry." Rose chuckled and shook her head, leaning back into him.

"It’s alright," she mumbled and sniffed a little. After a pause she looked back up at him. The Doctor felt one of his hearts skip a beat when she gave him one of his beloved signature grins, tongue poking out between teeth that alone made him feel like he could fly without a TARDIS. "I can give you one or two ideas of how to make it up to me." He hummed happily and pulled her back against him.

"Mhh, I'm listening."

"Well, first, you could consider getting a Plus One," she replied, almost casually and the Doctor grinned brightly.