Author's Note: This story is set between "The Angels Take Manhattan" and "The Bells of Saint John." AU from that point.

...

After all the work, all the heartache, and a lifetime's worth of happiness, Rose Tyler's life takes yet another path.

"Are they safe?" the Doctor asks. His withered hand clasps hers with so much less strength than she remembers. It contrasts sharply against her own smooth, unlined skin, but then, it has for years now.

"Are they safe?" he whispers again. His heart—his single human heart—stutters but doesn't fail. Not yet.

"Rose?"

She shakes her head, jerking herself back from her drifting thoughts. He's only human, but she learned long ago that despite all the differences, despite the frail human body, this is still most definitely her Doctor, and he needs her now.

Because after so many long years together, a whole life full of new adventures, he is finally dying. And she is not.

"Who, Doctor? Who d'you mean this time?" There are so many people they've met, people they've saved, people they've shared adventures with, loved even. So many people to watch out for and worry about.

"Martha…Mickey the Idiot…Captain Jack…Sarah Jane? Donna?"

His old companions, as he'd taken to calling them. She wonders for a moment whether he means the versions of their friends from their original universe or the people they've met and grown to know over the decades in what Rose still thinks of as her temporary residence.

Of course, home is where the Doctor is, so…

"Martha retired several years ago from medical practice. You remember Sarah Jane passed away a while back, but her son is still doing well. Donna's granddaughter graduated from college last month. Mickey and Jack…"

She trails off, not sure what to say. Through their years together, Rose and the Doctor managed to locate this universe's versions of most of their old friends, but they were never able to find any Captain Jack Harkness or similar. As for Mickey, well…they both remembered what happened to the Mickey from this universe.

"Other universe, I remember." The Doctor is quiet now, and Rose wonders just how much time he's got left. They're in the bedroom they've shared for the last twenty years, one of half a dozen they've shared in their life together in this dimension. Even after half a century with her, the Doctor still doesn't like hospitals and absolutely refuses to die in one, even if it does have a terrific shop.

"I miss all your make-up sometimes…the way it would run down your cheeks when you cried…the way your eyes looked so huge sometimes."

She smiles at the memory; she stopped wearing the layers of cosmetics decades ago. There just didn't seem much point to all the fuss anymore, and at her age it seemed silly to keep caking it on.

"I could go put it on for ya, if y'like."

"No, no. I'm not complaining; you'll always be the loveliest thing in the universe to me, painted or not. Don't you think it's funny, though?"

"What is, Doctor?"

"Us. You. Me. Him. How all this turned out in the end." She knows which him without asking. Ever since they realized what was happening with Rose, her Doctor began referring to the original version as "Him," not bothering to hide the bitterness. He seemed furious, usually refused to acknowledge the other Doctor at all, most of the time.

Rose knew, though, that he was just as furious with himself for not realizing sooner what would happen. After all, they were the same Doctor at that point. They both should have known, really.

"I'm so sorry, Rose. I promised you. I promised you this life together."

She smiles through her tears; she's never held them back in front of him before; no point in starting now.

"If you think about it, Doctor, it's me who's broken the promise, really, not you."

"Doesn't matter, you didn't make the promise. I did. Wasn't yours to keep."

She sighs, wiping her cheeks. No use arguing with him when he's like this.

"I need you to promise me, Rose."

"Of course, Doctor."

"We've done a lot of dangerous things, you and me. We've done some great things, some stupid things, and some stupidly great things, but I have to ask you to do the stupidest thing of all now."

She doesn't hesitate. "Anything."

His next words are strained, and he struggles to get them out. She grips his hand tighter.

"The cracks…you've got to find a way to get back to…Him. To the other Doctor. If he doesn't know, you've got to warn him. If he does, you can help him…somehow. You always do." He finishes with a wheeze that degrades into a coughing fit.

Rose forces herself not to think as she helps him take a sip of water. They're both quiet for a long time.

"I promise."

"Rose."

"Yes, Doctor?"

"My Rose Tyler. You…have our book to help you so you don't find him…me…too early?"

"Of course, Doctor."

"I never said it often enough."

She doesn't have to ask what he means.

"I said it enough for the both of us…and you told me every day in different ways."

"Not…enough."

She smiles and kisses his hand. "You said it that day on the beach. That's always been enough for me."

The Doctor finally smiles. "Best decision I ever made, and one of the very few I never regretted." He turns serious again almost instantly.

"I would have married you if you'd let me."

"Neither of us needed a piece of paper saying what we already knew."

"Not the point, Rose."

"I love you, too, Doctor."

He raises a weak, trembling hand, and she presses her cheek into its wrinkled,scarred palm.

"Beautiful as the day I met you."

"So are you."

"Not the same," he mutters, his eyes closing. His breathing eases, evens out, and deepens. Soon, he is snoring lightly. She lowers his hand from her face but doesn't release it.

He has so many regrets, even as a human. He regrets all the lives he's not able to save. He regrets not being able to successfully grow a new TARDIS. He regrets never being able to give her children, but she insists she never wanted kids anyway. She is mostly telling the truth.

Two hours later, his heart stops. He has asked her to not have him revived if this happens. She gently lays his hand down by his side. She glances numbly around the room at the various articles of his day-to-day life that have collected: a pair of thick reading spectacles laying on the bedside table, these ones for necessity rather than looks; an uneaten banana; several ties strewn about on the dresser top; dirty trainers laid neatly alongside the new ones she bought him last week.

It's an ordinary room for an extraordinary man.

He doesn't die with the trumpets and fanfare he deserves, with the universe singing praises and paying homage to its continual savior. He doesn't receive a grand ceremony or scores of honors or posthumous awards for everything he's done to help…well, everyone.

But he doesn't die alone, and for that Rose can only be glad. She stands, wipes her face, and makes the necessary phone calls. There aren't many. Her mum and Pete are long gone. Tony has grandchildren, but she doesn't see them much. Too many awkward questions.

Their affairs have been in order for quite some time; they knew this day was coming.

A week later, Rose finishes packing her last bags. She stays long enough for the cremation and funeral, long enough to say good-bye to the few of her friends she has left who will show up. It's too awkward or painful for most of them, as they didn't know the Doctor the way their parallel selves did. And everyone's just a bit uncomfortable around Rose. She doesn't mind; she understands.

She says good-bye to the best man she's ever known. Then she sets off to find him again.