AN: I'm so INCREDIBLY sorry that it has taken me so long to finish this. I'm so glad it's over with, because now I can work on NATG. I'm semi-happy with how this turned out, but...still conflicted. I had another ending planned, but I went with this one. Fingers crossed.

Thanks to Em Kay Who. This chickadee is AMAZING-hands down! You should read all of her work. Actually, stop reading this and go read her awesomeness! So...here goes nothing...

Three nights—that's all the Universe had allowed them. Three nights to revel in the afterglow of that night of unspoken revelations. Three nights before Rose was cruelly torn from the Doctor—the man she loved with every fiber of her being.

After hours of waiting, the decision was finally made to depart from the deserted halls of Torchwood. When gentle hands were placed on her shoulder, beckoning her to follow, the frayed thread of control that was holding the full weight of her heartbreak snapped, and Rose lashed out. She was consumed by a feral grief, and it was that grief that seized control of all her faculties. The gentle hands suddenly became firm and restraining as she was pulled kicking and screaming from the white wall.

Just before arriving at the exit, the tremendous strain became too much for Rose to bear, and she collapsed sobbing onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Nothing registered within Rose's mind other than strong arms lifting her up and cradling her as if she was a young child. Everything after that manifested as vague impressions. It wasn't until she was once again lifted up by those strong arms that Rose saw that they had journeyed to some isolated home. As she was wordlessly carried through the long halls, Rose realized that it was the man she had desperately wanted to call "father" that was protectively cradling her to his chest. If it had been any other moment, that knowledge would have caused her heart to soar, however, it meant nothing in her current state.

The next thing Rose knew, she was tenderly lowered onto a soft, yet unfamiliar bed. Immediately, she curled into a near fetal position, staring unfocusedly into the darkened room. A hand suddenly grazed her skin as her "father" tenderly moved the hair back from her tearstained cheeks, tucking it behind her ear. A fresh wave of anguish tore through her, and Rose tightly shut her eyes as hot tears broke the barrier of her lashes. She feared that he would try to speak to her, to comfort her with placating words. No matter how well-intentioned the motives, Rose knew she wouldn't be able to stomach it.

A few footsteps dully echoed through the room, followed by the click of the bedroom door. Once again, Rose was alone. Her body remained rigid, her knees drawn to her chest, as she allowed the darkness to envelop her. Now that some of her mental haze had begun to clear, the intensity of her heartache was augmented. The wounds were deep, piercing—almost as if a dagger had been plunged into her chest and the blade was slowly slicing through her fragile heart.

Disturbing images of that horrific day began to replay in her mind over and over, gaining alarming speed until they became an indecipherable blur. Round and around they went, spinning madly to the point where Rose began to feel ill. Her chest suddenly felt heavy, as if her ribs were caving in on her. She rolled onto her back, hoping to relieve the pressure on her lungs. The change in position, however, was made in vain. Her breathing became erratic, intermittently switching from short, shallow breaths to harsh gasps as her body clamored for air. The once cool room now felt stifling. Her chest was tightening, her lungs burning. Rose couldn't tolerate it any longer; she had to leave.

Forcing her physically depleted body off the bed, Rose began wandering the unfamiliar halls, blindly seeking out a door that would lead her outside. With her mind clouded in panic, logic was lost to her and she opened every door she could find, none providing an exit. Just before she was about to fall to the floor and scream in defeat, her eyes locked onto a set of glass doors. A fleeting sense of relief rushed through Rose and she hurried over, throwing them open and rushing outside.

As the cool air filled her lungs, a new rush of tears burst forth, burning her skin as they fell. The last bit of remaining strength fled Rose's body, her legs gave way, and she stumbled onto the grass. Landing on all fours, a harsh sting spread through her palms and her knees instantly felt bruised. The force of the fall knocked the wind out of her, and she took several shuddering breaths as her lungs attempted to reclaim what had been stolen.

Finally garnering enough air to ease her violently trembling body, Rose sat back on her haunches. The stinging pain in her palms remained and she turned her attention to her hands. Slight abrasions speckled with dirt on the thickness of her palm had resulted from her fall and were quickly identified as the source of her pain. However, when Rose turned her hands, the light of the pale moon exposed wounds of earlier hours—broken nails and bruised knuckles from her rampage against the white door of her prison.

Memories once again assaulted her tired mind, simultaneously paining her heart. Hoping to curb the onslaught, Rose shut her eyes and forcefully pressed her battered palms onto her swollen lids. Yet, just as she'd knowingly feared, it was all for naught. Embracing the futility, she tilted her head heavenward and opened her eyes. Seeing the sky was void of starlight seemed most fitting. After all, she'd lost her life among them along with the love of her life.

There was a sudden change of the images in Rose's mind. Of their own volition, her thoughts travelled back to the last night she'd spent under the stars with her Doctor. To the feel of his hand at the small of her back. His warm breath ghosting over her ear. The press of his lips against her forehead. The intensity swirling in his dark eyes as he uttered those profound words of thanks. Yet, the one detail of that night escaped her—the song. No matter how hard she strained, the melody remained out of reach.

Realizing that she'd lost yet another precious thing—something that, to Rose, was an expression of his undeclared love—a final blow was delivered to her heart, breaking its fragile remnants. Scorching tears returned in full force as she raged curses to the sky. Cursed the evil alien races they'd battled. Cursed her human frailty. Cursed the Universe for its cruelty, its sadistic enjoyment in her suffering. Cursed the air for filling her lungs.

A roll of thunder sounded in the distance, and Rose sniggered bitterly at the irony. Another storm was coming—this one literal. What had once been a gentle breeze was now strengthening gusts of wind. The tree branches swayed, their leaves rustling uncontrollably. Another rumble of thunder sounded from the sky, this one nearly hovering above her. Rose ignored its warning. What was another storm to her?

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered to her, reminding Rose that this wasn't her; she didn't wallow in despair. She wasn't of that sort. Rose sharply reprimanded it. She knew it spoke the truth, but it wasn't time for such a reminder. Maybe tomorrow she would rise and begin her fight, determine what path to take. But for that night, Rose was going to acknowledge her loss, to weep for it.

And as her tears continued to fall, the heavens opened up and released their burden, showering the earth and joining Rose as she grieved.

More than a thousand nights passed as Rose searched for a way back to her Doctor. Not all were filled with violent grief and blinding tears. There were days where her smiles were not forced, where her laughter filled the room. Nights where she didn't dream of her tired fingers slipping off the lever and her body hurtling into the void. Where she didn't wake up drenched in a cold sweat, screaming as the horrors of her nightmares faded into the recesses of her mind.

But when those nights did surface, when Rose would jolt upright—her throat raw and knuckles white from gripping her bed sheets—she would quietly slip out of the small guest home her father had built for her, not bothering with a dressing gown or cover of any kind, and turn her eyes to the stars. Some nights she would simply look up and wonder where the Doctor was, what trouble he was undoubtedly finding. Other times she would converse with the night, imagining the heavens as a conduit for her voice to reach his heart. However, those sorts of nights were sparse. No matter whether she chose to gaze or speak, Rose would always remember.

She would close her eyes and call to mind their night on that grassy hill—the lights dancing around them, their hands joined, their breaths mingling, their eyes conveying the words they failed to say. It was that memory that kept Rose standing after the Doctor faded from view on that hellish beach. That picked her up after every unsuccessful attempt to activate the Dimension Cannon. That played over and over in her subconscious while she lay in hospital, her body struggling to survive after unexpectedly jumping into the midst of a warzone. That kept her fighting when every painful breath taunted her with surrender.

But oddly enough, it was that memory that left Rose perplexed after her second and final visit to Bad Wolf Bay. She had kept a certain amount of distance between her and the Doctor who'd remained, never voicing her reasons to the inquiring minds who wanted to know. For those who had no serious attachment to Rose, this silence only gave them the fodder they needed for their speculations.

Though they may have thought themselves discreet, Rose was by no means obtuse. She'd heard their whispers, their offhanded remarks—that she never wanted the Doctor, only the adventure he could offer. That she was spoiled, that in her eyes, the man who was never more than a few steps from her side was not good enough. Oh, how wrong they were…

It wasn't that Rose was ungrateful, and it most certainly was not that she merely wanted the Doctor for what he could give her. It had never been about that. No, her reticence was due, in part, to that sustaining memory. True, she'd been hurt and more than a bit confused by the events of that day on the beach. After all, Rose had witnessed the love of her life simultaneously choose and leave her—hardly an easily reconcilable image. But what truly troubled her—the fear that kept her heart guarded and out of reach—was that he was the Doctor in mind and body, but not in heart.

The memory of that night was untainted, a shining moment of perfection. Though no words had actually been exchanged on the matter, there was denying that Rose and the Doctor had revealed their true feelings to each other. And now, after everything that had transpired, Rose was terrified that she would take hold of what she'd been given, only to have it shatter in her hands.

But one night, nearly two months later, something happened that did more than assuage Rose's fears. She had been curled on the sofa in the main house's family room, half-heartedly watching the scenes that played on the telly. Her entire body ached as she recuperated from a rather rough bout of the flu. For the better part of the day, Rose had been alone. The haze around her mind was too thick for her to remember where everyone was or what they were doing. As a new program started, her eyes became heavy, and before the first commercial break, she was fast asleep.

The next thing Rose became aware of was that her head was no longer resting on her hand. No, now she was reclined on her side, her head lying in someone's lap. Rose didn't need to open her eyes to know their identity—she knew it was the Doctor. He was softly humming as his fingers ghosted up and down the length of her arm—the chaste, yet intimate gesture causing shivers down her spine. Uncertainty shrouded her once more, and she felt her mind gear up for its all-too familiar debate.

Just as the silent argument was about to begin, something seized Rose's attention and silenced everything else. The melody he was humming… she… she knew it. Her senses heightened as she focused intently on the soft tune. Only a few more notes were needed before the pieces suddenly fell into place. Rose's eyes immediately flew open, that startling recognition instantly restoring her clarity, the hope within her blazing with renewed vigor.

As the Doctor continued the beautiful, precious melody, Rose found she could no longer appear unaffected. Its entrancement wrapped around her, pulling her closer; and after feeling lost for so long, Rose felt as if she had suddenly come home.

Rose lifted herself off of his lap, her tangled tresses scattered around her, partially obscuring her face. She hurriedly brushed the errant strands aside, clearing her vision and staring at him with shining eyes, her lips ever so slightly parted. The Doctor met her gaze with equal intensity, though there was the faintest hint of questioning lingering in his eyes. Rose scooted closer to him, her eyes now searching his.

"Y-…you…"

The emotions that had been rapidly building with her suddenly became overwhelming, halting her words.

The Doctor placed his hand over hers, his fingers soothingly skimming her soft skin.

"I what, Rose?" he prodded quietly.

Words rushed her mind, but none of them joined into any semblance of coherence.

"Y-…you remembered it. I didn't think you'd re-…I couldn't. I tried, I tried so hard. Every single day. But I never could. It…it wouldn't come to me. And I wanted it to…so much. I needed it to, and when it didn't…"

Swallowing back the tears caught in her throat, Rose took a deep breath and tried to express herself once more.

"That song…you… you remembered…"

A slight furrow of his brow formed and the Doctor tilted his head questioningly.

"Of course I do," he answered, a faint trace of confusion lacing his words.

Her doubt baffled him, but it especially troubled him. After all the trials they'd gone through—the anguish, the crippling heartbreak—neither of them deserved to dwell in doubt. Too many words had gone unspoken, too many feelings left unexpressed. The Doctor refused to live in such a way anymore. He'd lost her once; he would die before allowing the universe to do it twice.

"I could never forget that song, Rose. Never. It's…well, I…," he trailed off, taking a deep breath before he revealed his secret, suddenly feeling a bit shy in light of it. "I sort of…well, I sort of made it for you, Rose…it was the song I heard every time I held your hand…every time you were near me, truthfully. I didn't know what was going to happen, how much time we'd have left…I didn't know how to say it, but I didn't want to take the chance that you'd never how I felt…how I'll always feel about you."

Brimming with numerous emotions, the Doctor's eyes steadfastly met hers, refusing to hide the want of his heart for one second longer. Tears prickled the back of Rose's eyes as she lovingly looked upon his glorious face. Every doubt, every fear vanished at hearing his words. Slowly, she lifted her hand and gently placed it on his chest, her eyes resting there as well. She could feel the rapid pounding of his singular heart—a heart that beat for her alone, now and forevermore.

Her eyes drifted upwards, fixing intently with his. No longer able to keep them at bay, tears rolled unabashedly down her cheeks.

"You're still you…," Rose whispered, her voice nearly drowned with emotion. Hope was the only thing that prevented her from being rendered completely mute.

That same small smile of strength and reassurance that he'd given her the first time she'd uttered those words once again graced the Doctor's face.

"I'm still me."

A slow, brilliant smile formed on her lips, and Rose couldn't help but give a wet giggle as a wave of happiness came cascading over her. The Doctor's own smile brightened at her obvious joy and the fact that there was finally no misunderstanding or doubt between them.

As the final pieces began to fall into place, his expression morphed into something more than just happiness—something profoundly and intensely more meaningful. Rose immediately registered the sudden flicker of change in his countenance, and she found it both frightening and exhilarating. She wanted to say something, to prod him for a meaning—a meaning she so desperately hoped mirrored the want of her heart.

Before Rose could form a syllable, the Doctor lunged forward, clasping her face firmly in his hands and fiercely capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Though sudden and unexpected, Rose eagerly welcomed his lips with her own, reciprocating his passion tenfold. Every sense they possessed was overwhelmed with the intensity they exchanged, by the fire that raged through their veins. The depth of their love, the purity of it, caused Rose to gasp in astonishment, allowing the kiss to deepen and evolve.

Words and thoughts fled them both, their minds completely free of reason and rationality. Such things were insignificant anyways, seeing as everything that needed to be communicated was done so through their impassioned embrace. All too soon—forever would have been too soon—the Doctor broke their heated exchange, still cradling her face as he struggled to calm his labored breathing. Though his eyes were closed, he knew Rose was just as affected. He could feel the heat of her cheeks against his palms, and when Rose's hands grasped hold of his wrists, he could feel her own attempts at calming herself.

Taking a harsh, deep breath, the Doctor garnered just enough air to speak the words that still resided within him—words Rose deserved to hear.

"I know this whole bloody thing is far from a fairytale…," he took another steadying breath, "and I wish I could give you that, but-…"

"I don't want fairytales," Rose stopped him, squeezing his wrists in emphasis, "I've never wanted 'em. I want you… s'what I've always wanted. Just you."

A broad smile emerged at her reply. "I never, in my wildest imagination, thought I'd ever feel this way about anyone. And then you came outta nowhere…took me completely by surprise. You became my everything, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you…anything you need, I would try to find."

"I'm fairly certain it was me that found you," Rose quipped, her tongue in teeth smile appearing for the first time in three years.

"Still cheeky, I see," he grinned, nudging his nose against hers.

"You love it," she chuckled, "Admit it."

"That and more, Rose Tyler. So, so much more."

The teasing smile on Rose's lips faded as the sincerity and depth of the Doctor's words washed over her. His unfathomably dark eyes locked with hers, and she felt a shiver slowly travel down her spine as she lost herself in the emotion they held. Overcome once again, it was Rose who rushed forward this time, locking her fingers around his head and pulling him to her, fervently claiming his lips as her possession. It was a claim the Doctor was more than willing to allow her to stake.

Mere seconds later, the Doctor once again broke their kiss, eliciting a groan of frustration from Rose.

"Would you please stop doin' that? It's drivin' me mental!"

The Doctor laughed heartily at Rose's pout as he slid off the sofa, grabbing her hand and pulling her up to stand beside him. As he started to lead her out of the family room, Rose began to protest.

"Doctor, I'm a complete mess. My hair's a rat's nest and I'm in my bleedin' jimjams. I'm barely fit to sit an' watch telly, so-…"

"Patience, Rose. Patience."

Though she rolled her eyes, Rose couldn't help but grin at familiarity of his admonition. Her patience was soon rewarded when they arrived at the glass French doors that led to the back lawn. She had a suspicion as to the Doctor's plan, but remained silent on the matter, trustingly following him as always. Stopping in a rather open spot of grass, he turned to Rose and pulled her towards him. Those dark eyes of his intently regarded her, his adoring gaze drinking in every aspect of her moonlit face.

"Dance with me."

Just as it had all those years ago, the invitation stilled her breath. There was something so profound, so intimate about that seemingly simple request. Rose hadn't denied him then, and she was most certainly not going to deny him now.

Stepping closer till she was merely a hairsbreadth away, Rose smiled softly as the memory became a reality once more, with the Doctor's free hand finding purchase on the small of her back as the other began to lead them gently back and forth under the starlight. Closing her eyes, Rose laid her head against his chest, the soft rhythm lulling her into a state of reminiscent bliss.

"Shame there's no music," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

The Doctor bent his head down, tenderly kissing her temple before ghosting his lips over her ear.

"I think I know a song you'll like."

As their melody wrapped around them, tears of contentment fell from the haven of Rose's eyes. Their journey had never been without difficulties, without pain. Yet, all such trials had fortified them, and proved irrevocably that they were two halves of one soul. That impossible was just a word, a word that held no power over them.

Their dance continued, the world around them falling away as they remained in enwrapped in each other's arms. The banded White Point Star felt heavy in the Doctor's jacket pocket—a location where it had resided for more than three years. His fingers itched to pull it from its hiding place, to give a visible sign of the devotion he had for his Rose. But that would require him to release her from his embrace, and that was unthinkable on his part. No…it could wait, he could wait. Forever if needed. The stars could burn out, no longer shine, but it would never weaken his resolve. His heaven was in her eyes, his heart beating in harmony with hers.

So, the Doctor pulled Rose close, cherishing her warmth and the feel of her in his arms. He'd long since ceased with their song, still the melody played on. As the notes drifted on the wind, they remained dancing under the stars.

The Doctor and Rose.

Together.

As it would always be.