Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC and copyright of Russel T. Davies and Steven Moffat. This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: This started out as a simple little ficlet idea that just seemed to grow and grow. I really enjoyed Rose's storyline in S4 and I found the changes in her character fascinating and like to think that the Doctor does as well. Many thanks to Bratflorida who beta read this for me, and Professor_Spork who inadvertently put the idea of Rose lifting the whole leather jacket thing from the Doctor in my mind, which spawned this whole thing. I realize my take on Ten.5/Rose might be different than everyone else's take, but I've always been the kind of shipper whose head-canon runs away with her. ;)

5 Things About Rose Tyler That Changed (and 1 That Didn't)

1

"So, the year five billion – sun expands, the Earth gets roasted."
"That was our first date."
"We had chips!"

Rose hardly ever ate chips, anymore.

He didn't think it was possible. Rose had always loved chips. He'd liked them himself; back when he was all leather and ears and gorgeous eyes (he could admit that now… his immediate previous self had had gorgeous eyes – no matter, he got the great hair). Something about the salty taste along with the malt vinegar had tasted particularly delicious to him. Of course, knowing that chips were Rose's favorite was just a bonus and a perfect excuse for him to take her to cozy little chip shops whenever a fancy took him.

Then he'd changed and more preferred sweet over salty. Rose had still loved chips, of course, but hadn't eaten them as often, most likely because she knew he didn't like them much anymore.

Now, here in Pete's World, Rose barely touched them. He wasn't sure why – they tasted just fine to him now. Maybe it was the half-human bit of him, but he rather liked them.

Rose though, she didn't care for them much.

2

"You see, I'm prepared for anything!"

He wasn't being completely fair; Rose hadn't done it in a long time… since before Christmas of 2005 in the old world, to be exact.

But he missed it, really.

Rose had always had a playful smile and when she'd stuck her tongue between her teeth as she'd smiled… Oh, he'd thought about it. Often. In excruciatingly improper detail.

She still smiled. And it was still playful. But it wasn't that smile. It was a more mature smile now.

Rose was more mature now.

3

"Go out there dressed like that, you'll start a riot, Barbarella!"

"Aren't you going to change?"
"I changed my jumper!"

Rose had liked to play dress up, when they'd first met. She had enjoyed dressing for the period, whether it was a night in 1860 or a jaunt to the 1950s. She'd had an… inventive wardrobe, to say the least. She'd worn bright colors and smiled and laughed and he could have – had – spent hours just looking at her.

Now Rose was… well, she still looked great.

Her wardrobe mostly consisted of a blue leather jacket (he knew where that quirk had come from), a several matching pairs of sturdy black trousers (yep, that one too), and the same practical (but stylish and comfortable) shirt in various colors: fuchsia, red, turquoise, goldenrod, pumpkin, teal, purple, cerulean, pewter, etc.

She had other clothes, of course, such as a few cocktail dresses and a really nice cashmere sweater that he'd caught her nuzzling when she didn't think anyone was looking, but mostly…

Rose dressed like him, now.

4

"Isn't there anything I can do?"
"My race is dead. I shall die alone."

Rose doesn't trust as easily as she used to.

Rose had always been the first in line to help out when someone was in trouble. Only now there was a hesitation there, a cautiousness that hadn't been with her before she'd been taken away from him.

Rose had a compassionate streak in her that couldn't be tamed, and while she still wanted to help whenever she could, she more prone to question things rather than jump in headfirst.

Rose trusted yes, but now, that trust had to be earned.

He didn't want to think too hard on why that was – he knew the answer would be a painful dose of reality.

5

"Someone's got to be the Doctor."

She'd done well for herself here, Rose had. She was a field team leader and one of Torchwood's go-to agents whenever the subject of aliens arose.

She commanded the room (or wherever she happened to be, really) and others looked to her for guidance, to stand up and make the hard call.

And Rose did it. Rose did it very well.

It wasn't easy and it sometimes left her unable to sleep the following night, but Rose did it.

He'd been used to others looking up to him about such things. It had been natural, even.

They looked up to Rose, now.

He felt the oddest mixture of sadness and pride as he realized… Rose was more like him than he'd ever thought was possible.

1

"I love you."

The Doctor had never really thought that Rose would have been anything other than happy in Pete's World. He, he'd had the hard bit – traveling alone, knowing that someone he deeply loved was gone from him forever. He was the one who had to face long, endless years without her. She'd had her family, her friend Mickey.

Except now he knew better: Rose had had a difficult time too, more than he ever would have thought.

She had changed so much. Sure, she was still Rose and he still loved her, but she just seemed so… different sometimes. Maybe being trapped here had done something akin to regeneration on her.

She was gone at the moment. She'd been called out on Torchwood business. When they'd arrived back in Pete's World, Rose had made it very clear that she wasn't going to give up Torchwood – not that he would have ever asked it of her.

The Doctor hadn't joined up yet; something kept holding him back, telling him to stay away, to give it more time. Part of it was pride, he supposed. He was human now, mostly. He actually got winded when he ran – not just pretended to, like he had before, so that Rose wouldn't feel bad after a particularly brutal run for their lives. Also, it had stung a bit to realize that he wasn't the first person everyone at Torchwood turned to whenever there was a crisis. He'd been so used to being the absolute authority on such situations but now he lived in a world where was a whole agency devoted to it, one that wasn't corrupt, and Rose was one of the most respected agents there.

It was strange and unsettling to be sitting at home late at night in their flat (thankfully a mortgage had never ensued), waiting on Rose to return, hoping that she'd be all right. Of course, he could have gone with her – she always invited him along, always told him that he could help, would be a great help. He always said no, even when he'd longed to say yes. Rose had obviously built a life for herself here and he wondered if he'd ever truly have a place in it.

He looked over at the simple yet elegant clock that sat on their dresser. (And it was their dresser – Rose had given him half of the six drawers.) The slow tick-tick-tock-tock of it seemed to taunt him. Not a Time Lord anymore, are you? Not the lord of me now. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. It was nearing half-past two and Rose still wasn't home yet.

He should call. No, no he shouldn't. He didn't want to bother her if she was busy. But yes, maybe he should – she could be in trouble, could need his help. No he shouldn't call, Rose was capable of handling herself, no need for him. But he wanted to be needed.

He stiffened as he heard the front door unlock. He reached over to the nightstand for the sonic screwdriver he'd lifted from the TARDIS months ago and aimed it at the bedroom door. It was most likely Rose, but still…

It was Rose. He lowered the sonic as Rose came in and gave him a tired smile.

"Just a mo'," she said as she went straight for the loo.

He placed the sonic screwdriver back on the nightstand and laid back in bed, his mind racing. Somehow, his half-human mind seemed to think more than his Time Lord mind ever had. He had all these worries now, all these concerns. This was supposed to have been easy! He was supposed to have kissed Rose, started a life with her, and been happy. Instead he'd kissed Rose, sort of stepped into her new life that may or may not have a place for him, and was merely something resembling content.

He didn't want contentment. He wanted Rose. He'd always wanted Rose.

He just wasn't sure if the same still held for her.

But she loved him, didn't she? She'd said it, ages ago on Bad Wolf Bay. She'd told him she loved him and he'd just wasted time being clever and he'd never gotten the words out until he'd been made new. Then he'd told her and then she'd kissed him and it had been damn near perfect. They'd never had problems in the bedroom since then, or anything, either.

His musings were interrupted as Rose, freshly cleaned and dried and dressed in an impractical blue silk nightie joined him in bed. She moved over and kissed him gently on the lips, snuggling into his side.

"Missed you," she murmured tiredly. "It was such a long day and I thought of you just about every spare second I had."

"I missed you too," he said, with more feeling than he'd meant to voice.

"You could have come, you know?" Rose said, sitting up. He wanted to protest at the loss of her warmth at his side. "I always ask you, and you always say no. I know Torchwood's no substitute for the TARDIS and traveling the universe, but it's good work. We help, Doctor."

"I just don't know if that place is for me, Rose," he said, even though he knew it was a lie. "Plus, they've already got you and you're worth ten of me," he joked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rose said. "That place is exactly for you, Doctor. You'd be like a kid in a candy store, once you got used to it. And don't joke like that, nothing could ever replace you," she said sincerely.

"Why does it mean so much to you that I sign on?"

"Why does it mean so much to you that you don't?" He sat up and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Have it your way, Doctor," Rose finally broke. "It's just not the same without you. We never used to be apart like this; we were always getting into the thick of it together. I know you've changed since you became half-human but you're still the Doctor. We're still together."

"You've changed more than I have," the Doctor said defensively. He ruthlessly beat down any hope that wanted to rise at the words "You're still the Doctor."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rose asked hotly.

"Well, since you asked," the Doctor's tone was bitingly sarcastic; reminding her sharply of the first him she'd known. "You don't act like yourself. You don't touch chips anymore, you don't do that smile, you dress like there's only one clothing option in the universe, you don't trust anymore and you've turned into… Rose, you've turned into me." By the time he'd finished, his voice had grown sadder than she'd ever heard.

"So you don't want me anymore because I don't eat chips or dress impractically?" she asked, unmistakably hurt.

"Rose, you're just so different," he said. "It's like I ruined you."

"No, you didn't, Doctor. Don't you ever think that! Don't you even dare! You could never ruin me!"

She looked at him and he didn't want to meet her eyes.

This was it, he thought. This was the beginning of the end. The Doctor and Rose, separated forever in a way that the void between parallel worlds could have never managed. She was going to kick him out and he was going to be alone.

"They taste wrong," she said, after a long silence between them.

"What?" he asked. He was baffled. "What tastes wrong?"

"Chips," Rose said. "They taste wrong here. They're supposed to be salty but here in this world they taste too sweet. I've tried to make them the proper way but they always come out wrong, so I stopped eating them."

He gave this some consideration. "I suppose that's why I find them great now, in this body," he allowed.

"I dress the way I do because it's simple and it's practical. I got tired of having all my nice, expensive clothing destroyed by alien slime or fires or whatever hazard Torchwood seemed to throw my way. The pants and shirts are inexpensive and easy to buy, so it's no great loss if I lose them. And the leather jacket, well…" She didn't see the need to continue.

He understood perfectly. "You look great," he insisted. Rose snorted.

"Trusting too easily here gets you killed. I saw it happen to more than one terrific field agent so I learned better. Aliens know that we know they exist and some of the more dangerous ones don't show their true colors until it's too late. It's a survival thing, Doctor. Have you ever seen me deny help to anyone who's truly needed it?"

That made sense, too, now that he thought about it. "No, I haven't. You still help them when you can."

"And maybe I am more like you, now," she admitted. "But it's not a bad thing. I wanted to help and be useful and this is something that I'm really good at. Me, Rose Tyler, a shop girl! I fight the way I do because you showed me a better way of living, Doctor. You taught me to stand up and do what's right. You didn't ruin, me, Doctor, you made me better. You made me so much better than I ever knew I could be. And I'm not sorry for it."

The Doctor was quiet. This was Rose, he realized. This was what he'd seen in her so very long ago. Rose hadn't changed for the worse; no, Rose had simply grown up and become the woman he always knew she could be. He regretted that he hadn't been with her to see it, to see how fantastic Rose had become in Pete's World. She was brave, loyal, and strong. She was funny and she was clever and in his eyes, she was quite simply the most wonderful woman in the universe.

It wasn't that Rose didn't need him or want him or have no place in her life for him. It was that Rose was waiting for him to step inside, so to speak. Rose was the one offering him a fantastic adventure, one that he didn't know how to accept, because he'd never been in this way before. They were still equals, they were still the Doctor and Rose, but the adventure offered was a very different one.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, well aware that he'd just ruined any hope for a future with Rose.

"Did you mean what you said back on the beach?" she asked. "When you told me you loved me, did you mean it?"

He recalled the scene with perfect clarity. "Rose Tyler," he'd whispered into her ear, heart pounding wildly in his chest. "Rose Tyler, I love you. I always have loved you, and I always will love you."

"I meant it."

"Even though I've changed?"

He looked at her. She looked vulnerable and unsure of herself, which was a crime. She should not feel that way, not ever.

"You're Rose," he said. "You're my Rose and you're brilliant. If anything about you has changed, it's only that you've grown up and are more amazing now. And that's saying something, because you were pretty amazing to start out with." He was smiling now and she was blushing a lovely shade of red.

"You still love me?"

"Yeah."

"You still want this, a life with me, here?"

"Yeah," he said. "I do. I'm sorry for ever making you doubt it." He sighed. "You're better at this whole thing than I am, apparently. It didn't take you too long to get used to me when I changed, and even less time after I became half-human. It's taken me what, months to get used to you?"

Rose laughed softly. "You're the Doctor," she said simply. "I missed the old you when you changed, I missed you a lot. I still do, sometimes. But you were still the same man I fell in love with, basically, and I learned that. And when you became half-human, it was still you. You're still him. You're a bit more like my first you, and I like that, but you're still you. You're still my Doctor."

The Doctor mulled this over. He knew that if he'd regenerated instead of pouring the energy into his spare hand, that Rose would have still loved him in his eleventh form. And that form, whoever he'd be, would still love Rose.

"I really am sorry, Rose," he said.

"It's been a shock for you," Rose replied understandingly. "Look, I'm not going to pressure you about Torchwood. If you want to join you can, but I'm not going to try and make you."

"Would it make you happy?"

"It's not about making me happy, Doctor. It's about wanting to help. You can still help even if you don't have a time and space ship."

"I want to help," he said, honestly. "If you'll let me."

"'Course I'll let you!" Rose exclaimed. "It's Dad you're going to have to get past. His interviews are brutal." She was grinning now. Not that grin, but grinning.

"Do you ever think you'll smile like that again?" he asked.

"Doctor." Rose looked away slightly. But he understood. He did.

He laid back, hands behind his head. This could work, he thought. This could really work out between us. We could be happy.

"So. Tomorrow. You, me, and Torchwood. Does that sound alright?"

Rose smiled down at him. "Yeah." She moved and suddenly straddled him. "So. Now. You, me, and trying to break the bed. Does that sound alright?"

He grinned underneath her. "That, Rose Tyler, sounds brilliant."

The next day, Peter Tyler had the most frustrating interview of his life and Torchwood suddenly had to revise its fraternization policies, and invest in more fire extinguishers. And the Doctor and Rose, as it turned out, ended up being very happy indeed.

I hope you enjoy! Questions, comments, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!