Epilogue

"How long are you going to stay with me, Rose Tyler?" the Doctor asked.

Unlike the last time he'd asked it, both of them recognised that the answer was really just a pretty fantasy. Even with her potential to live much longer than a normal human, everything still had to end sometime. It was the way of the universe.

Still. The point wasn't telling the truth.

"Forever," she vowed with a smile.

The point was the promise inherent in the word, and the need for both of them to hear it said out loud.

One day, Rose remembered, that man in front of her, who had both of his hands currently laced in hers, would die one last time to save the universe. He'd done that before, of course. But on that particular occasion, he wouldn't be able to come back with a new face and a broad smile, eager to figure himself out yet again and as willing as always to take on the universe.

Rose wouldn't be there with him as he died, either. Not really. There would be a much younger version of Rose, mid-way through her universe-hopping travels, off in hiding. Back then, she'd watched a scene for which she hadn't been able to piece together all the pieces until years later, so she hadn't quite understood the levity of all that she was seeing. And the Doctor certainly hadn't been aware that she was there for him, just out of reach.

Rose had crossed universes back then looking for the Doctor, a young man with insane-hedgehog hair and a constant sadness hidden behind his eyes, and instead she'd seen a dying man who looked so different, but was so obviously the same deep down.

Rose wouldn't be there to hold his hand as he passed, but she knew that River Song would be. The Doctor wouldn't die alone. He'd lie there, gasping his last breaths but somehow still kind of serene in his knowledge that his long life was finally ending. He'd tell River his name, then, the only thing he'd never been able to share with Rose.

That younger version of Rose had followed River afterwards. She'd been unbearably jealous of this strange woman who the Doctor had looked at that way as he was fading. In fact, she could admit in retrospect, Rose had just plain resented the hell out of River right then. Even having worked out from the conversation between River and the Doctor that it had been necessary to maintain the causal nexus that held the universe together, Rose still couldn't help but hate River a little for being the one to ultimately make the decision to sacrifice the Doctor's life. Not to mention that Rose also hated that the Doctor had trusted River enough to let her do it.

That younger Rose, in following River, had unwittingly seen what River had done with the Doctor's dying secret, though she didn't know it until much later. River had unlocked the TARDIS door, gone inside and saved a dying sort-of-machine's life. Then she'd re-emerged to meet a boy who had appeared beside the TARDIS soon after River had. The boy had tears running down his face, despite his expression looking otherwise strangely cold at that moment.

Well, Rose called him a boy because physically he looked just like a lad in his mid-teens. But his eyes, when that younger Rose had managed to catch sight of them, looked like they'd seen so many more years than just a decade and a half. Just like the Doctor's. Just like Rose's own. Like that boy had actually lived sixty years even though he barely looked sixteen.

"He said to tell you he was sorry he couldn't hold on long enough to see you," River had told the boy, and he'd nodded, looking suddenly more miserable at her words. Rose had found that, at the time she'd been watching it, she much preferred that sadness to the emotionless mask that even she, a complete stranger, had been able to tell was just a fragile shield erected between him and the world.

"And what? He thought leaving me the TARDIS would be fair compensation?" the boy had asked angrily.

"He wanted you two to have each other, I think," River had said.

River had rested a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder and he'd let it sit for a moment, even though he didn't look like he was drawing any strength from the gesture. Then he'd pulled away and drawn a key from his pocket. He had shut the door after him when he'd entered the TARDIS without looking back at River once, then the TARDIS had swiftly disappeared off through time and space. Younger Rose had stood there, wondering what on Earth she had just witnessed.

Who was that woman to the Doctor? Who in the universe was that odd boy, who had a key to the Doctor's ship and could obviously fly the TARDIS completely independently of the Doctor himself? Why would the Doctor leave his TARDIS to someone else? And how had the boy even known that the Doctor had died, anyway?

Rose now thought she knew the answers, though. Rose rested her hand against her abdomen and sighed.

The curse of the Time Lords, even apparently not-quite-fully-fledged Time Lords, was to outlive everyone they knew, even each other. Rose had only known the Doctor for a year when he'd thrown that fact in her face like a mile-high obstacle to prevent her from getting too close. It hadn't worked against her, in the long run; she'd pushed and pushed until the shield finally wore down and became brittle enough to snap. She just hoped that that boy managed to find someone who'd ignore the stupid protective mechanisms he would inevitably set up one day as well. She hoped he'd be happy, at least most of the time. She couldn't stand to believe it would be otherwise.

"You all right?" the Doctor asked her, snapping her out of her ponderings.

Rose smiled at him, swinging their joined hands cheerfully between them. "You know me."

"Yeah," he said seriously. "I do. That's why I'm asking. When I say 'Are you all right', I actually mean 'Tell me what's wrong'. It's a secret Time Lord code to phrase it like it's a choice, so you don't accuse me of being too officious, as we Time Lords always tended to be."

Rose laughed. "You know what, Mr Officious Time Lord? Right now, as of this very second, nothing at all is wrong."

She had to focus on that. She'd learned long ago that not living in the moment could break a person.

"Yeah?" the Doctor asked.

Rose let go of the Doctor's hands so she could step into his arms, which willingly enfolded around her. Somehow, even though she'd known this man in three very different forms so far, the fit of her body against his always felt just right. She laid her head against his shoulder. "Yeah," she breathed into his ear. "Everything's perfect."

She felt the Doctor smile against her cheek, but then that quirk of the lips fell away.

"Perfect," he repeated, his voice suddenly wavering slightly. "Yes. Well. Sure. Everything's absolutely perfect. Except for that."

Rose turned, pulling out of his arms, and looked at the massive lizard-like alien that seemed to be stampeding quickly towards them. It didn't look happy. Not at all.

"Perfect," Rose said, this time sounding sarcastic. "Couldn't even find us a planet where we wouldn't be chased by aliens for two seconds, could you? So much for having a romantic moment."

"It's not my fault," the Doctor protested, wide eyed.

Rose sighed. "Run?"

"Run!"

Their hands found each other as they sprinted away towards the TARDIS, the irate alien on their heels. In a way, Rose thought, that moment of running for their lives was actually about as romantic as the two of them could get. His hand in hers, their three hearts all thumping wildly, tearing away from danger with smiles inching onto their faces.

She'd said it sardonically, but it was actually true in a way. It was perfect.

Perfection was temporary, and it was almost always an illusion, but both of them had seen so little of it in their lives. When it, or something close enough so as to make no difference, came along in a guise that would seem strange and probably ridiculous to anyone else (escaping from aliens included), they had to grab onto the feeling with both hands and hold on for life. Those moments were fleeting, sure, but they were still there, and so they were no less important for their brevity.

Rose would be damned if she didn't enjoy it all while it lasted.

~FIN~