And then, he too was gone.

It was so quiet, so still. Rose would swear time itself had caught in a single freeze-frame, if it weren't for her pulse in her ears pounding out the passing seconds. And if she moves, breathes, she might break apart, or simply fade away.

Exactly like he did.

Perhaps that is exactly what she wants.

She wasn't sure she could take it anymore; him getting lost into places it was near impossible for her to follow.

From out of nowhere Amy's thin arms came and hugged her tightly, a well-meaning comfort which succeeded only in ending Rose's merciful numbing stasis. The cogs of her mind chugged back into motion. This couldn't be real. She'd given it everything in her to get here in time, to save him. Was it all for this? For nothing? Yes, went her eyes and no, her heart, desperately battling one another, pragmatic visible reality versus feeble yet stubborn denial.

Not gone not dead not too late I made it he was right there right there right there

Less than a minute had passed, but Rose had already allowed herself to be so consumed by pain that she nearly didn't hear it. A word, low and quick with an impatient edge- like a curse, coming straight out of nowhere on an impossible little breeze. With a quick sniff, Rose straightened and stilled, listening with all her might.

But there was nothing, the room held nothing but empty silence.

She was definitely losing it.

Thunk.

Then a shuffling sound. Rose met Amy's equally startled eyes. Rory came up to stand beside where the girls kneeled; gaze fixed straight ahead, his long form rigid and waiting.

Several moments passed, and when it happened again, this time there was no mistaking it. "Oi," said the wall, distinctly. "Bit of help would be nice."

"Raggedy Man," drawled Amy, low, "is that you?"

More scuffling.

Rose held her breath.

"Why?" came the voice again- a mix of breathless, distracted and annoyed. "Does it look like it might be the Queen of England?"

Amy's lips pursed. "No, stupid. You don't look like anything." Releasing Rose, the redhead began slowly rising to her feet. "You've got the invisibility shields on again, haven't you?"

"...Bugger...SORRY!"

Hasty rustling, like fabric on fabric.

And an aborted high-pitched buzz.

Nothing.

Smack, smack.

Another short buzz and a muttered complaint. "Blimey, this thing is a bit useless, isn't it?"

Rose's eyes were beginning to dry and burn. Finally there was a round, fully productive whirr. The air in front of them began to shimmer like heat off black asphalt, dissipating to reveal a box of the bluest blue, a blessed splotch of brightness in the dingy room.

Directly before the doors of the time-ship stood the bow-tied Doctor, eyes apologetic and sheepish underneath his drooping fringe of dark hair. And then suddenly Rose's heart was desperate to agree with what her eyes were telling it because with him, barely supported by the tweed-clad arms going under his armpits and around his chest, was the slumped form of Rose's Doctor.

Her hand went to her open mouth.

The older Doctor had the silvery, blue-tipped screwdriver clutched in a hand. "Sorry about the delay and all, couldn't get to my own, proper sonic-"

In a flurry of movement, Rose was at their side. "Is he alright?" she gasped, sliding her hand along her husband's slack face, through the roughness of his sideburn, into his damp hair. His skin was warm, cheeks almost too pink.

"Yes, yes, just a bit overloaded, maybe," the other Doctor assured her, as Amy and Rory appeared at their sides.

Hot, fat tears gathered in her eyes, but didn't drop until after Rose helped the Doctor lower him to the floor, reclining him semi-upright against the TARDIS. Then they absolutely rolled, unchecked, as his lips parted, then his eyelids. When his blurry-eyed gaze focused and landed on her and Rose heaved for air, fisting her hands in his lapels, and buried her face in his chest. When she felt his arms come up around her she began to sob, great, wracking things that robbed her body of breath.

"Shhh, love, it's okay," his voice was hoarse at her ear. "I'm alright. I'm so sorry."

"No, this is all my fault," came the horror-struck voice of the other Doctor, from somewhere above them. "I can't imagine how bad that must've looked- I was here the whole time. I wasn't going to let them hurt him, Rose, please don't cry."

She didn't answer. Her own Doctor's hands begin stroking up and down her back. "I'm still here," he said, with a tinge of awe in his voice that confirmed her suspicion. He'd been nowhere near as optimistic about the outcome of this situation as his counterpart seemed to be.

Rose burrowed deeper into his chest. "Do you have any idea how angry I am with you right now?" she mumbled, her breath coming back hot against her own face.

She felt him nod. He hadn't yet guessed that the answer to this was not very much at all, though she wanted to be. Though she probably should be. But he was dead and now he wasn't and even without reading that bloody note she had a pretty good idea as to the reason why he'd been willing to risk his life today. Amy was right. It had to do with protecting her, nothing new at all. It was a last ditch, misguided effort to keep that promise she'd wrangled from him- and the fleeting, impossible presence of a two-hearted, bow-tied contingency plan.

"Don't blame him," said the other Doctor, sorrowfully, and Rose lifted her face from her husband's shirt to look up at him. "This was all my doing, my daft idea. But Rose, they're gone now, see? That's something, innit?"

Her Doctor shook his head, squinting painfully. "It doesn't make up for what I did," he said, looking at her with dark, remorseful eyes. "I lied to you again, Rose. I ran off. I made life-changing decisions without consulting you. It was unforgivable."

"Yes, you did all of those things," she replied, swallowing at the sheer amount of pain in his eyes, how his hand trembled slightly against her face. "Later, we're gonna talk about all of it. I'm probably going to be very, very angry, and yell, I might slam a few doors." This got her a tiny smile. "But 'unforgivable'?" She shook her head. "I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. And in a way I actually feel sort of responsible, like I'm, oh I dunno, a teacher who's let the two most troublesome boys in the entire school sit together alone all day in the back of the class. Who am I to wonder when all hell breaks loose?"

She hadn't realized how tense he was until all the air left his lungs in a whoosh. "He is a terrible influence," conceded her Doctor, with a ghost of a smile.

"I know," admitted the other one, his sigh just as heavy.

"Can we please go home now?" asked Rose, dirt clinging to her jeans as she got to her feet. She helped her husband up and he swayed slightly, clenching his eyes shut.

"Bit dizzy," he said, faintly. Rose lifted his arm around her shoulders, and Rory hastened to support his weight from the other side.

"Jeep's outside," said Rose, eyeing first the TARDIS and then the new Doctor. "We can't leave it here. You'll meet us at our flat?"

"Promise," he assured her. "I won't disappear. But you could take the Ponds with you, if you want. Amy knows I'd never dare abandon her," he added, shooting a tired grin at his companion. "But the TARDIS needs a good recharge before she can make the trip. Might take a while. Invisibility shields really are a drain on the power."

"Okay," said Rose. "Just don't try it as an excuse for being late. Time machine, remember?"

It was a full ten hours before the TARDIS regained enough energy to make the short hop to their flat. The Doctor was grateful for every minute of it. Even so, he was still not ready to do this. To say goodbye.

He didn't do goodbyes. He ran; it was practically instinctive by now. Self-preservation. He'd run from Rose before, lost her, had even sent her away. All had lanced him straight through the hearts, yet none were as terrifying as the prospect set before him now. Standing so still, looking into the eyes of the one he he'd loved no other, and bidding her a deliberate, eternal farewell.

But she deserved better than the endings he'd created in their past. And it wasn't her fault he'd allowed himself to be drawn in to the folly of hoping that he might keep her, and never say goodbye at all. Yet he was not sorry her husband had lived. And he was glad that at least some of that was his doing. The telepaths would likely have killed his counterpart without giving him the slightest chance if the TARDIS hadn't been there, if her translation circuit hadn't kicked in just in time.

Bottom line: Rose was happy because of him.

And that would have to be enough.

He was at one of the windows when he heard a key in their lock, staring out into the dusk as it highlighted the gingerbread city like icing, and preparing himself to resist this final temptation. Fabricating a smile, he turned to find the Ponds coming in, laden down with brown paper grocery bags. They were followed by Rose and the Meta-crisis, who was looking somewhat better now, and moving under his own power. The Doctor watched him as he beelined for the sofa and flung himself down with a groan, propping his trainer-clad feet on the coffee table.

"Are you hungry, Doctor?" asked Rose with a smile, dropping her keys on the table next to the door. "Amy and Rory have offered to cook dinner for us tonight. Though I must say that what they have planned is a bit... interesting."

His best friend smirked but said nothing as she set her bags down on a countertop.

Reaching inside one, she began pulling out boxes of frozen fish fingers.

Comfort food.

"Amelia Pond," said the Doctor warmly, with a small shake of his head. Amy looked over at him and smiled.

"So it's true, then?" asked Rose, her amused smile widening. "Fish fingers and custard? Really?"

"New taste buds, new rules," said the Doctor. "Don't knock it till you try it, Rose Tyler."

"Don't worry, I bought pasta too, just in cases the two of you end up not liking it," said Rory, depositing his own bags in the kitchen.

"But you do like it? Not just him?" asked Rose in genuine surprise, peeking in one of the bags.

"Yeah, long story," replied Rory, as he shooed her from the kitchen with a grin. "But definitely one you need to hear later."

"You should have seen what he did to my kitchen," added Amy with a laugh.

Rose shrugged and went to join her Doctor on the sofa. He was looking slightly pitiful lying there, eyes closed, head thrown back against the cushions. But the Doctor saw him smile as Rose tucked herself up against him.

"Big chin, definite food issues," Pinstripes commented dryly, looking up as the Doctor perched on the other end of the sofa. "Blimey. Do I just get stranger with every regeneration?"

The Doctor glared at him. "I wouldn't have licked the zeppelin."

"You licked my garden shed," called Amy from around the corner.

"He also pokes his fingers in the jam jars," Rory added darkly, dumping an entire box of fish fingers onto a baking pan.

Rose broke out into uncontrollable giggles at that one and the human Doctor scowled. "That's not- that's not even close to the same level as fish custard, Rose! Fish custard!"

"Don't knock it till you try it," said Rose.

Associative memory is like time-travel, in a way. With nothing more than a song, or perhaps a long-forgotten scent, it gains the power to suddenly transport you, taking you back to the last time you heard it, breathed it, and you're looking out of younger eyes. Reliving every emotion.

The Doctor doubted he would ever be able to eat fish fingers and custard again.

There was a good chance that from here on it would only trigger these images of Rose, sitting across the table, which he was currently storing up and hoarding away like a miserly old man. As they ate and talked he was finding it difficult to keep his eyes off her -relearning how she laughed, memorizing things, like the way she tucked her hair behind an ear in what was very much a nervous gesture. He wanted the memories only for the having, like a beloved old film, owned but too damaged to ever actually watch. Because the sound of her laughter would be tainted by remembered pain, all the color and life to her blurred by jealousy, knowing that the man seated next to her got all of her forever and everything that went with it, including the right to hold her hand even now.

It was that same jealous part of him that found some consolation in knowing that he'd left his mark on her too, if he went by the dark sorrow in her eyes which was completely at odds with her smiles.

"...but then he told Rory, "I'm keeping the clothes," Amy was saying, nudging him with a laugh. He mustered up a faint smile, then let it fall as he brought his cup of now-cold tea to his lips. She kept trying to distract him, but as much as he didn't want to worry his friend any more than she already was, he just couldn't bring himself to act as if he were fine right now when he really, really wasn't. Anyway, Rose deserved better than what he'd given her in the past, planning and smiling and running around while he was secretly torn apart over their impending separation. What good had it ever done; his pretending not to care? It only hurt both of them more.

As Amy continued her story Rose caught his eyes from across the table. "I'm sorry," she said, so softly that she wasn't much more than mouthing the words. "But thank you."

"Anytime, Rose Tyler," he said, and then flinched a little. "Oh, I do hope the TARDIS didn't catch me saying that. She likes you so well that she might take the offer literally, and send me back here to help anytime you lose your keys or something."

She giggled as the spiky-haired Doctor's eyes widened, having overheard this. "No, no, no need for that," he said, catching everyone's attention. "All minor inconveniences and major troubles will be handled just fine by yours truly from here on out."

Rose turned disbelieving eyes on him. "Is that right? 'Cos I'm pretty sure it was your life that just needed saving, not mine. And I'm certainly not the one who's always losin' things."

He squinted back at her. "Okay, so we're both jeopardy friendly, I'll give you that. But surely someone with an eidetic memory like mine doesn't simply misplace-"

"Our car. For two days."

"But that- that's because there was an emergency, Rose, of course all my focus was on-"

"It ended up being a real, actual earth squirrel. You also once lost my little brother."

He tugged on an earlobe. "Right."

Rose grinned fondly at him, dropping her chin onto a hand.

"Tired?" the Doctor asked her. They'd long since finished eating, and the light spilling into the flat had grown much dimmer. Outside, distant zeppelins blended into the greying sky until only their lights could be seen, flickering like low-hung stars.

She hummed. "Suppose so. Haven't really thought about it."

"Well, I can tell you that I'm knackered," announced the human Doctor, getting up from his chair. Indeed he looked it; his face was pale with exhaustion, his movements stiff and tired as he made his way into the kitchen, depositing some of the dishes on the countertop next to the sink.

With both regret and relief that this part was over, the Doctor stood too. Minutes left, now. Just one last thing to take care of and then he would go. Off to mourn his loss; to nurse his wounds in private.

"We'll take care of this, Doctor, you need to rest," Amy was saying, as she and Rory rapidly stacked up the table's remaining dishes. The Doctor couldn't help a smile at hearing her refer to his other self in this way. It was rather heartwarming, to see how she could take a new face in stride.

The tall man in pinstripes came out of the kitchen. "Can we have a quick word?" the Doctor asked him. "In your office, perhaps?"

Number Ten rubbed at an eye. "I was just about to suggest that." The TARDIS was parked in there.

"Thought you might."

The two entered the office, heading immediately for the privacy of the time-ship. The human Doctor ascended the stairs to the console. Chin tucked, he stared down at it, absently fingering one of the knobs. While he took this moment for a quiet farewell, the Doctor went to the opposite side of the console. He crouched, rummaging around underneath it.

After a bit the Doctor cleared his throat. When the other man looked up, he tossed him the soft bundle he held in his arms.

The part-human Doctor shook it out. "My coat," he said, lips forming a crooked half smile. "I love this coat."

"I know," he said, smiling as the Other slipped his arms into the sleeves. "Like I said before. Best part of the whole getup."

"Yeah." He brushed his hands down the front of the coat, smile fading.

"Well," said the Doctor a bit awkwardly, "it looks like everything is alright between the two of you. That's good."

Skinny pulled in a slow breath and released it before glancing up to meet his eyes.

"Not so sure what you mean by 'good'. I lied to my wife and scared her half to death. And no matter what you say there's no denying the fact that if they'd wanted me dead there was no way you could've prevented it."

"I know," admitted the Doctor. "But they didn't. You're still here."

His other self stared hard at the controls, fiercely flicking a switch back and forth. "But why? Why didn't I die today? I was so sure."

Why was he so stuck on this? thought the Doctor, frustrated, jamming his hands in his pockets. He honestly could not remember ever being this difficult, this impossible to please. Yes, what had happened wasn't ideal, but it was fine now. He was the winner, and not for half-mad, stolen minutes like he'd once been but a real winner for the rest of his life, no tampering with fixed points necessary.

"Why were you so sure?" he asked, after a slow, calming breath. "What did the Time Lords do to them?"

The Other shook his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know. It was terrible- so much so that, in the end, I couldn't even tell them about the stupid zeppelins. Instead I... I offered myself to them. I practically told them to kill me."

He said the last part as if making a weighty confession, and stole a look at the Doctor, wondering how he'd take it.

"That's why they let you go, then," concluded the Doctor. "You were truly sorry."

The other Time Lord scrunched his face up, shaking his head. "But... none of this makes any sense. I should have died!" Every line of his face, his posture, said that he meant this, believed it. Like he was still hopeless.

"Why are we going round and round with this? Your attitude is what's confusing to me- it's almost like you're... disappointed or something," the Doctor hissed. "You're alive, you idiot! By the looks of things you're also getting off nearly scot-free with Rose, and soon I'll be out of your lives forever. You should be bloody ecstatic right about now!"

His other self looked at him in horror. "You can't leave yet."

"Sorry?"

"The loop's not complete. How is Rose supposed to go back? All those visits in my past- plus another one again today!"

"Ah," said the Doctor, anger dying down in his sudden understanding. "Right. Actually, I have a theory about that. C'mon." He turned quickly, and led the way down the short, curved flight of stairs until they reached the jungle of connections and cables directly underneath the console. He stopped abruptly, looking straight on, and crossed his arms. "You see?" he told Pinstripes, who was looking this way and that, semi-confused. "All taken care of."

Two black cables ran out from the tangle of other ones, and the human Doctor's eyes tracked along their length until he found where they connected- to a large, very familiar glass tank, glowing from the inside with a dim, pulsing gold. Instead of the small branch of TARDIS coral, it now contained a soft, roundish, oddly shaped organism, so large that it propped up the lid of the tank on one side.

His other self's jaw worked a few times, but nothing came out.

A smug grin crept across the Doctor's face. "Didn't have much else to do, waiting here for you lot, so I thought I'd try giving this little girl a jumpstart. All she needed was a bit of time with her old Mum. Just look at her, she's beautiful, already her growth is ahead of the curve." He gently patted the wall. "That's not so surprising, is it?" he added. "She's brilliant, the daughter of the most brilliant ship out there."

He came up next to the taller man, whose profile was edged with the light from the baby ship. "It was you after all," he told him softly. "Two years, two and a half at most, and you'll be back amongst the stars. And, well, revisiting some memories, apparently."

He didn't answer. The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you see? I finally get it; why the TARDIS was so insistent on my coming. For this, right here. Everything as it should be."

But his counterpart continued in his statue-like state. "C'mon," he nudged him impatiently, "let's go fetch Rose. I'll bet you can't wait to show her." He caught a glimpse of the other man's face and frowned. Mouth slack with shock, brow furrowed. One would think the tank held a slimy, tentacled Dalek instead of a newly-thriving infant time-ship.

"No," the Other murmured, finally turning huge, tormented eyes on the Doctor. "Rose is going to time-travel in this. She's not with you."

"Right, because she's with you, knew you'd cotton on eventually-"

"No, no no, she's not with me and she's not with you and...it's all my fault. My fault because I didn't tell you everything, and now you've gone and done this and made it all, oh, about a thousand times worse."

The Doctor stilled. "What are you talking about? What didn't you tell me?"

Closing his eyes, the human Doctor's hands went to his head. "How I found out the truth," he said dully, "that day she showed up in our flat. How I knew for certain that she wasn't my Rose." His voice was rough, and when he opened them, his eyes were red and glassy.

The Doctor nearly stopped breathing as it began to occur to him where this was going. "How?"

"I kissed her," he said, low. "I kissed her and when we touched, her mind reached for mine almost instantly; unconsciously trying to reestablish what I identified right off as a severed link. Of course it would; it recognized me as her... her lost bond-mate."

His words hung heavy in the air between them for a moment. "It didn't work, of course, since my link her current self is still intact. But I think she nearly passed out from the shock of it. As did I."

He looked up at the Doctor, pale, his lips thin and tight. "So yeah, funny as it might seem, I'm a bit upset that I didn't die today. Because if she doesn't go off with you, it means she'll be traveling alone."

The Doctor's mind was reeling. For once, he really, truly had no clue what to say. What to do.

"Three years," Pinstripes went on. "That's all I've had with her. What's the point? Why did Bad Wolf insist on my creation in the first place if I'm just to be with her a short time and then abandon her?" The set of his jaw changed, into something hard and determined. "I won't let that happen. You need to take her with you. I'll bring her into the TARDIS and you-"

"No," snapped the Doctor, slamming a hand against the wall. "I won't do it. Neither of us is going to make any more decisions for Rose Tyler, not ever again. Listen," he said, running a hand through his hair, "you have her now, don't you? You know you don't want to make my mistakes. If I've learned anything it's that you simply can't waste your time with her by worrying about tomorrow. For all you know, all of this could be years off. Why can't you just enjoy it? Live. It will be a good two years until your TARDIS is ready, so you must have at least that long. Do you have any idea what I'd give for two more years-"

He trailed off, and they stared at each other. "You're right," said the human Doctor, running a hand down his face. "I get that part, but I- I'm not worried about me. How can I be happy about spending the rest of my life, my forever, with Rose, when I know she can't spend hers with me?"

His particular word choice was not lost on the Doctor. Rose, possibly condemned to years of future loneliness. The very thing he was once unwilling to suffer for the sake of briefly having her.

Rose should never feel the weight of that curse.

He was helpless to do a thing about it.

Until he realized that he wasn't. Neither of them were.

They were just thick.

Electricity tingled in his spine, the rare sort that only came a day when he saved the world with a kettle and string, on a day when everyone lives. "Maybe," said the Doctor, as his hands came up and began waving about, "not with you, you. That doesn't mean she's doomed to be alone."

The pinstriped Doctor stared at him.

"Grow your TARDIS," he went on, though he hardly yet knew what he was saying. "Teach Rose how to fly her. Show her the means I used to cross the void and... make sure she knows that, if anything happens, she can come back to me. If she wants."

"She won't have to be alone," uttered the human Doctor, sounding dazed. "She can go back." He broke eye contact, staring into the air. Soon, the lines of his forehead began to smooth out and when his eyes flicked back to the Doctor they were bright and clear.

He looked years younger. "But not yet. I'm still here now, you know."

"Right."

"Might be for years."

"Hopefully."

"So for now she stays with me." He sniffed.

The Doctor refrained from rolling his eyes. "Well, of course she will; you're rubbish on your own. You'll need help, won't you, what with all those void holes on this side that need fixing."

The human Doctor nodded, solemn. "Right. I can take care of that."

Then a grin crossed his face like a flash of light, wild and bright. "I'm going to have a TARDIS," he said, in a tone of amazement. "I need to tell Rose!"

As his double ran past him and skipped up the stairs, something inside the Doctor- something deep in his gut, so long withered and numb that he'd considered it dead- twitched and began stirring to life, tingling and burning. As sensation further returned, it was a very fortunate thing that the Doctor already had a hand on that railing, because now his own words-

"She can come back to me"-

-penetrated the fog of his mind, and buckled his knees. With two hands clutching the metal bar, he lowered himself onto a step, head spinning, and began repeating it over and over, first in his head and then out loud. The thing inside him grew, sending tendrils of heat to the tip of every extremity and he recognized it now, knew it by name.

Hope.

It was hope. Not the smoky wispy sort that was little more than wishing, but real and solid, the kind of hope he hadn't had since he'd literally chased after it full out, down a rubbish-strewn street. Eyes stinging with tears, the Doctor wrapped his arms around himself. He could hardly keep from laughing with the mad, impossible joy of it all. Somehow he knew, sure as he'd ever been of anything in his long, long life, that this wasn't the end for them. He might be leaving this place but he was running toward her all the same, just as he had once before, years and years ago. But this time would be different; no Dalek or any-bloody-thing else the universe might toss in his way would stop him. Every day, just a little bit closer, beginning always with the thrilling prospect of it possibly, possibly, being the one in which he might again sweep her into his arms.

He heard the clunk of footsteps above him and blinked rapidly, wiping his eyes. Then, on a sudden whim, he ran a hand over his chin just to be sure he hadn't actually regenerated; he felt so like an entirely different person than he had not quarter of an hour ago. After finding the distinctive feature still intact the Doctor pressed his lips together to compose himself and hopped to his feet. Even that seemed easier, as if he'd literally had a weight lifted off.

Rose's feet appeared on the curving staircase first and the Doctor caught himself giving them an idiotic grin. He checked it just as the rest of her came into view, the others filing down the steps behind her. Oh, it was even harder to hide happiness than it was heartbreak, he decided. Or maybe it was because he'd just never had any practice.

"What's all this about a surprise?" Rose smiled at him, her voice just a tad too cheerful. "You know I'm always a little scared when you say that word-" her gaze went past him and she stopped, her put-on, teasing expression becoming one of wonder. "Is that what I think it is?"

She went over and placed her hand flat on the warm glass for a minute, then looked up into the smiling face of the man in the suit who had sidled up beside her. Watching the two of them beam at each other, then get caught up in an all-encompassing hug, the Doctor's chest felt tight in the best possible way.

Amy and Rory came up, flanking him on either side. "So they'll have a TARDIS soon," said Rory in a quiet voice. "Nice job, Doctor."

Amy leaned her head against his shoulder. "You doing okay?"

"Pond. Yes, I really am."

The final moments arrived. The baby time-ship had been returned to her place in the flat, and the Ponds had bid Rose and her Doctor farewell with genuine sadness and regret on both sides. Soon after, his companions had boarded the TARDIS, understanding that the Doctor would prefer privacy to support for what came next.

Standing just outside the Police Box, he, Rose, and his other self gazed at each other, no one saying a word. Now that he was actually expected to go through with this, the hopes the Doctor had bolstered himself up with faltered a little. What if this really was the last time he saw her?

Rose's chin was already trembling, her eyes wet, and even without his own doubts that was nearly enough to do him in.

He crossed his arms, stomach clenching. "See," he said, voice shakier than he'd like it to be, "no running off. Easy peasy."

"No, it's not. But thank you. Thank you for everything," said Ten earnestly, reaching for the Doctor's hand and shaking it. Then he stepped aside, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The Doctor looked at Rose. She swiped the tears from her cheeks, and he stood very still as she came up close, smiling bravely at him. "Love this," she said, and she tugged playfully at his bow-tie. "Makes you look very cute."

He made a face, sappy grin vanishing. "Cute, Rose Tyler?"

Rose laughed at him, albeit a bit watery. She slid her hands down to grip his lapels. "Yes. So don't...don't change it anytime soon, ya hear?"

"I won't," he said, focusing on her hands on his jacket, unable to look her in the eyes.

"Doctor," she whispered and his gaze cut up to find her biting her lip. "I'll probably never see you again, will I?" Her eyes welled again and a single tear escaped, sliding down her face to drip off her chin.

He wiped the moisture away with his thumb. "Now, Rose Tyler," he said, and slipped his arms around her waist. Hers encircled his neck and he held her tight, breathing her in, knowing she was doing the same. "You know better. Never say never ever." Easing back, he brushed a quick kiss across her forehead, and turned away.

Pushing a door, he looked back over his shoulder to find the two hand in hand. Though she was openly weeping, Rose tried to smile at him. He swallowed, tight and painful with the boulder in his throat, and was so tempted to tell her those three little words he'd never had the chance to yet.

But she knew.

And this was not yet his time.

"Goodbye," he said, praying with all his hearts that it wasn't for forever.

And then he went inside.

At the creak of the door Amy flew off the jump seat, her features heavy with worry. He met her near the console and she threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Raggedy Man, I'm so sorry."

He nodded, allowing this for a minute before disentangling her. Without further word or pause, he started to circle the console, inputting the dematerialization sequence. Amy followed, at his elbow for every button pushed and dial clicked, her concerned eyes locked on his profile.

Nearly finished, he paused, turning to her. "Amelia Pond, now don't make a fuss. I'm alright. Got you looking after me, don't I?"

But she only came closer, narrowed dark eyes intently studying him. It was easy to see that she thought he was lying.

"Whatever, Doctor."

He sighed and threw down the final lever. The ship whooshed, time rotor pulsing vertically, and the Doctor closed his eyes. He couldn't help thinking of the girl left behind, standing outside the doors. Surely she was watching as they faded away.

"Those coordinates better not be set for anywhere near my house," Amy's voice rang out, before he could sink into any sort of melancholy. "I have no intention of leaving you alone for a while."

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She was back in his personal space. The TARDIS rumbled and shook, and the Doctor gently brushed Amy aside so he could go over and keep an eye on the monitor.

"You know, I've started to believe that I'll never understand you," she said, sounding frustrated. "You just said goodbye to the love of your life, yet this is the most normal I've seen you act in weeks. It's making me nervous. What's the deal, Doctor? What are you really feeling? Just be honest. Please?"

Her eyes were wide and earnest, pleading. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking over to the captain's chair, patting the space beside him in invitation.

"What am I really feeling?" He dipped his head, looking into her eyes. "Okay. I'm sad, definitely. Of course I am. But also proud. I helped them, Amy. Other Me is safe; soon they'll be back to traveling again."

He considered her for a moment, before deciding to share the rest. At least some of it. "But mostly, Pond, I feel... hopeful. And mind you, I quite like hope. Always have. It's a good emotion."

They smiled at each other and were promptly thrown to the floor as the ship lurched sideways. Rory came stumbling in from a corridor, catching hold of the railing.

"Will the reentry be as bad as it was coming?" he yelled.

"No, no," called the Doctor, as the ship slowly steadied. "That was the worst of it. Look, no smoke this time!"

A blaring alarm sounded and the Doctor scrambled to his feet, dashing to the console. "Oh, no no no, that's not good," he muttered, staring into the monitor as he slipped a hand inside his jacket. Then yanked it out again. He stared at his empty palm, perplexed, and then patted his chest up and down.

"He didn't. He couldn't have. No..." Breathing fast and panicked, he ran his hands down the sides of his trousers.

Amy watched him, relaxing. Finally he was aggrieved. Just as her expectations had told her he should be.

His face tipped up and he looked at his friends, cheeks flushed, with eyes wide as saucers.

"Has either of you seen my sonic screwdriver?"

-FIN

I would like to say a huge thank you to all of you loyal readers! Your comments have meant the world to me, and this has been an enormously fun endeavor. I hope you aren't quite tired of this particular storyline, because I'm not, so there's a sequel in store if you're interested! It's in the drafting stages now, and I hope to begin posting early in 2015. Stay tuned for "The Aftermath of Forever", all you Rose/Eleven fans!