A.N. Well, here we go again! First off, I need to give a spoilers warning to those of you who have not read the previous story in this series, "The Consequences of Dreaming". This first chapter does give away the ending of that story. That said, if you'd like to go ahead and read this anyway, you should be able to figure out what going on.

Also, I must apologize for the (very) angsty note this starts on, but things will only get better from here.

The Aftermath of Forever

Chapter 1

If he had bothered to ask her how long she'd been waiting, Rose simply would have shrugged. Little over half an hour. Long enough to pace the floor a few times, to press her nose to the windows. Long enough to shred every tissue in her pocket.

But the real answer, the honest one, the one that mattered because she felt every second of it as an ache in her bones, was too long.

Months upon endless months she'd spent, missing the weight of his gaze on her. Hungering to simply share a smile with him. To have just a scarce few of the words from his lips be meant for her and her alone.

He didn't ask how long, in fact at the start of it all he'd hardly asked her anything. He was too surprised, too joyful at finding her there two whole days earlier than he expected (you weren't supposed to be home until Saturday, Rose) that she'd barely used any of her well-rehearsed lies before he'd pounced on her, his mouth coming down firmly over her own.

And although it was fantastic, oh yes, being joined with him and whole again, had Rose even the slightest idea of what it would lead to, she never would have allowed him anywhere near her.

Her hand shook, and it took three tries before she fit the key into the lock. At least it gave way easily, and Rose stumbled into the console room, chest heaving, her legs jelly. As she slid down against the door she felt it shift, latching tight under her weight. With a shudder she turned her face into it. Its scent, its texture, was warm and familiar and comforting, like the shoulder of a beloved friend. She breathed it in, while in her veins the last of the flight hormones burned away, leaving only the leaden weight of despair.

She had finally done it. She'd gone too far. Re-entering her own personal timeline was dangerous, beyond risky, all along she had known it and still she pressed on. Was losing him not bad enough? Oh no, she had to go idiotically mucking about, and now-

-she had just jeopardized their precious history.

She.

She, Rose Tyler, had done this.

Not Bad Wolf.

Bad Wolf, her eternal excuse. Rose had never really come to terms with what she'd done in that stint of omnipotence. Yes, she'd saved people, saved the Doctor and Jack, but in every other way, her actions had been nothing short of self-serving. Her first creation? A way back to the Doctor. Then, a second version of him, a miracle in the form of a human/Time Lord hybrid who was able to stay with her in this universe, so she could be near her family.

Not a thought had the goddess spared for the other Time Lord, who would go on alone, who too had loved her, to whom she'd also promised her forever.

It was bad enough, back when she thought that was the all of it.

The full, awful truth had lain for years in patient wait: Bad Wolf had never meant to settle for only one Doctor. From the very beginning, all cogs had been set in motion, linking time and choreographing events till Rose's first dance was over. And then she would move heedlessly on, a second partner willing to take her hand.

"I create myself," indeed.

More like "I create for myself."

Rose meant to spend the rest of her days living in defiance of it all.

But-

Today's shock had brought clarity, and clarity was painfully blunt.

However unknowingly, Rose Tyler, human, had just done battle with the goddess for the title of most egocentric...

...and won.

Oh, god. She needed to be gone from here.

She got to her feet and hoisted herself up the ramp, her clammy palms sticking to the metal railing. She made it to the console and circled it, inputting the dematerialization sequence by rote until she vaguely registered the ship's shuddering entrance to the Vortex.

It was a small relief. She could still feel him; her lips still burning with the longed for press of his mouth on hers. His scent clung to her so heavily that Rose felt she must either scrub it away now or drown in it. The latter... it was a tempting idea. To simply drag herself off to the bed they'd shared, curl up in his pillows and essence, and tell herself lies.

But it wouldn't work. Even now, as she breathed him in, all she could see was him wrenching away from her, his beloved features crossed with fear, horror and realization thick in his voice.

"You're... you're alone. No, no no no, please, you can't... I thought... why, love? Why?"

Tears sprang into her eyes and Rose hastily shed her jacket, balling it up outside-in. She chucked it into the farthest corner and dashed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later and steaming water poured obligingly from the tap, filling the tub and turning the air in the small room warm, thick and heavy. Rose stripped, tossing her clothes back into the bedroom through the partially open doorway. After toeing the door shut, she reached for the shelf at the foot of the tub, grabbed the nearest glass jar and dumped a good portion of its contents into the swirling water. Then she watched the pink, crystallized salts melt away until there was nothing left but their sickly, sweet scent.

She climbed in, slowly sinking into the liquid heat. As the last lingering evidence of him washed away, loss and grief suddenly overwhelmed her, and she broke down, sobbing. She sobbed with the pain of wanting him, sobbed because all those years... he'd known. Known that she would go on without him, aimless and restless and heartbroken, even after he'd begged her not to. He'd known that she would break her promise.

Leave it to her. The Doctor was dead, and she was still hurting him.

Crying felt good, in a way. It spent her pent-up tension in a way that all the running in the world hadn't, and Rose didn't even try to control the tears until they'd dwindled down to not much more than a pounding headache and shuddering, shaky breaths. Soothed by the hot water, she slid low, ducking her head under, counting the seconds and holding her breath for as long as she could possibly manage. Slowly she exhaled, tiny bubbles of air, and the horrible knot in her belly began to unfurl a bit.

How had it possibly come to this? All she'd wanted was to see him every once in a while, whenever the loneliness became too much to bear. She'd told herself it was helping her cope. Helping her move on.

It was so obvious, now, how desperate she'd gotten. How every sighting of him had left her far from satisfied, but rather half-mad, hungry for more. She wanted a final goodbye, even if he never knew it for what it was. That's what would enable her to finally cut herself off and give him up for good.

Rising up from the water, Rose drew a long breath and lay back against the side of the tub, running a dripping finger along its cool, smooth edge. In the end she'd had him fooled for maybe all of a minute. Perhaps she'd have carried it off a tiny bit longer if he hadn't touched her, but since he was the Doctor and she was Rose there was no chance of him keeping his hands to himself.

The kiss itself was everything she had longed for, ached for, the very definition of rapture- until the smoldering remains of the mental bond she'd once had with him was suddenly hit with new life, as with a rush of pure oxygen. Pleasure twisted into panic as the link flared up, white and hot, burning and clawing for its lost mate, completely beyond Rose's control and shocking the breath from them both. His dark, stricken eyes told her he'd gotten far more than a glimpse at how their story would ultimately end.

She yanked the plug, a nascent plan forming while the water drained away.

Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe... maybe she could go back again, prevent herself from going through with it...

A memory floated up out of nowhere, slamming into the back of her skull.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked, poking her head into his office. Surprised, the Doctor looked up from where he was hunched over the tank containing the TARDIS coral, not only bespectacled but very bright-eyed for such a late hour.

"I'm taking energy readings."

"In the middle of the night?"

"I've been missing something, Rose. It's the only explanation for why she won't grow. Once I figure it out we are going to have this TARDIS. I'm absolutely convinced of it."

Her lips tightened. "Not this again."

He turned away, running a finger over the branch of porous coral. "I stopped in at Lola's this afternoon," he remarked, after a few beats. "For a coffee. All day I've been wondering if you, by chance, found the time in the middle of your assignment to go and sit at one of those little tables directly across the street from there?"

Rose breathed, in and out, and waited until he met her eyes. "I was in Aberdeen all day. With Jake."

"I know."

It was just one incident of many- he'd mention things from time to time, always with hesitant words and wary eyes. Rose had eventually put an end to such speculations, being so convinced that he was wrong. There was no way he could possibly be spotting a future her. Not without a future him at her side.

But he'd been right all along. And there was no fixing this. Today, all the other times, everything, it had already been woven inextricably into their lives. And all she could do about it was...

Damage control.

It had to stop. She would have to get away from Earth, with all of its memories and all of its temptation. Maybe forever.

Damp and towel-clad, heartsick, but full of resolve, Rose stepped from the ensuite back into the bedroom. In an instant she froze, toes curling into the carpet's soft pile, and saw the space as if it were something brand-new. Neatness had never been her strong suit and dirty clothes were strewn about everywhere, her dresser-top cluttered, the high-postered bed left rumpled and unmade. Yet through it all his presence lingered. His pillows. His books, still piled on the nightstand, topped with black-rimmed spectacles. Countless pairs of filthy old Converse, left in a heap on the floor of the closet.

Beads of water dripped from her hair to trickle wetly down her back. She'd never been able to bear the thought of moving out of this room. She couldn't. Yet, the fact that she needed to move on had never been clearer. But how could she let him go, form a new life on her own, being so surrounded by him everyday?

The problem didn't reside solely in their bedroom, either. The Doctor was everywhere, evidence of him and the life they'd shared haunting the ship like a ghost. Yes, she was still traveling, still helping people wherever she could, but truth was...she'd lost herself. He was never out of her mind.

And as long as she remained in this universe, where she had the power to see him again ever present right underneath her fingertips...

She could never make herself let him go.

Eyes slipping shut, Rose stood for long minutes shivering, in damp terrycloth and sodden hair, until she had forced herself to accept this as truth.

The Doctor, as Donna had insightfully pointed out, should never travel alone. It was too dangerous. He needed someone to stop him. Rose had always thought of this as a Time Lord thing, or something inherently him. Now she knew better. Loneliness and power were a lethal mix. She was a fool to think she wouldn't be susceptible.

And she was a bigger fool if she didn't take drastic measures to end this- today. Now. Before she had a chance to change her mind. And then he would be protected from her, their precious history safe and sound, with no further mars upon it.

Her chilled flesh had become absolute numbness that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Dimly Rose was grateful for it; numbness was good, numbness she could handle, like a relieving anesthetic before an amputation. Dropping her towel, Rose dressed herself with fumbling hands. She reentered the bathroom, and went through the motions of drying her hair.

The metal grating clanged under her feet as Rose, clad in dark green trench coat and jeans, wound her way back into the console room. Pulling her hair into a loose ponytail, she leaned against the main column, leaving the navigational controls untouched.

"You've hated this, haven't you, girl?" she said, basking in the comforting warmth and light of the time rotor. "Fought me every step of the way, yeah, just like you should have. But...you took me to save him once. So maybe I did at least one thing right?"

Picking her way slowly around the console, Rose ran her fingertips over every lever and circuit and knob as if she'd never seen them before. Indeed, some of them were mysteries, a toggle-knob here, a flip-switch there, bits and bobs she had never seen even the Doctor use. This was true of the small, unobtrusive button set under the curve, which her fingers found easily. She pressed it, releasing a drawer of sorts. A small smile tugged at her lips as it came back to her, keenly, the first fight of many that it had engendered.

"...and this bit here is the psycho-telemeter, a sort of, ah, homing device. Have a thing from somewhere else? Pop it right in, and wham! this brilliant little circuit deduces where it came from and then takes you straight to the planet of origin. Or even...well." He gave a little shrug. "Universe of origin. Not that I've ever tried it, myself." The Doctor cleared his throat, eyeing her carefully. "Heard it works pretty well, though."

Rose stared him down, stone-faced and unblinking. "And I need to know this...why?"

He didn't flinch. "Just in case."

"In case of what, Doctor? In case I, oh, I dunno, get tired of our life here and decide it might be fun to take up with another Time Lord? Which would be totally okay because, even though he has a different face and lives in an entirely different universe and I haven't seen him in years, technically he's still you. Even though you're my husband and he's never been. Even though I've never even kissed him properly. None of that matters, because to me, the two of you should be bloody interchangeable, is that it?"

His nostrils flared and he pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "That's not...that's not fair. Look, can you blame me for wanting to at least, I don't know, try and prepare for things? Prepare. It doesn't mean I want it to happen, or even that it will. Humans do these sorts of things. It's why they have...wills and, and, medical directives and life insurance." His voice softened. "Besides, he is me. And if...something happens, someday, there's no reason why you should have to stay and be alone here. Please. I...I need you to tell me you won't."

He'd been so adamant about it. Afraid, even. So Rose, chalking it up to his typical over-protectiveness of her, and as always wanting to soothe him, had made the promise.

A good portion of her had also been hoping that the agreement on her part would keep him from ever bringing it up again, but he had. Repeatedly. And now she knew only too well the reason why.

But even if she kept her promise to cross the Void, how could she just swan back into the life of the other Doctor? She had already been the cause of so much pain for him. What right had she to return and risk reopening wounds that had probably healed over long ago?

The answer was that she had no right. So she would cross, but only as a brand-new beginning for a brand-new Rose. Her days of searching for the Doctor were over.

The only person Rose sure as hell needed to find was herself.

Jaw set, Rose took the green-tipped sonic screwdriver from her pocket and deposited it, clattering, into the opened drawer. With the heel of her hand she pressed it shut, activating the circuit with a flash of light and a soft, electronic beep. Then, all at once she imagined the tool in the hand of its original owner- a man whose face was too young, and whose eyes were all too familiar. Eyes that had drawn her in just as much as they ever had.

The vivid image of him made Rose pause. What, exactly, would she do if their paths eventually crossed? How would she react if he...still wanted her? Would her love for him be the thing that made her capable of resisting?

Or made her incapable?

Her hand trembled on the final lever, and she hated herself for wavering. If she didn't go now she didn't know if she'd ever find the courage, but what if she was making the wrong decision?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I don't know what to do."

And then, a soft whoosh as the handle suddenly shifted downward, right underneath her hovering palm. All Rose could do was clutch tight to the edge of the console, trying to keep her footing as the time rotor surged into motion.