Somehow the finality of a supernova had never really occurred to the Doctor until he'd had a far more personal reason to associate it with the end of something important. Really, though, his remembered pain was only a reflection of the greater tragedy. He was essentially watching the dying breaths of a star that had long outlived most species in the universe. It seemed somehow sacrilegious that, in those last moments, the star should shine more brilliantly than it ever did during its long and constant life.

Still, he found it difficult to feel at all miserable while watching it this time around, considering that Rose's hand was gripped tightly in his. The nearly too-bright pure white light illuminated every tiny bit of Rose's face and highlighted her delight, which made the Doctor's hearts – his single heart, rather, the Doctor had to remind himself – clench in a much different way than the last time.

It was an echo of both the day they'd watched the sun expand (their first date, as Rose had once referred to it) and the day he hadn't quite managed to say a proper goodbye. So coming here and seeing this on their first trip back out through time and space felt like closure. At the same time, it felt like the kind of new start that he could finally trust.

The metacrisis had happened nearly two years ago, but this felt like the moment the Doctor's life was properly beginning all over again.

It had felt as though he'd been living someone else's life, or perhaps just dreaming, until the new TARDIS had finished growing. He'd remembered that time trapped in the other universe away from Rose so keenly that it had just seemed more real than anything that had come after it. He'd spent his days doing things like arguing with Torchwood about the use of their recovered alien technology, or teaching Tony how to speak proper Gibberish ("If he's going to be multi-lingual, now's the age to start him off," the Doctor had defended himself while Jackie had tried to make him quail under the power of her unimpressed glare). That sort of thing had been a welcome break from the pain of the last few years, in some ways. However, they hadn't felt like they belonged to him the way being back in the TARDIS – a TARDIS, anyway – always had.

Rose might not have quite grasped the significance of the two of them watching a sun burn up together, since she hadn't actually lived through the last one in the same way that he had, but that didn't matter. The look of wonder on her face at the sight of it was more than enough for him to know it still meant something to her.

The Doctor gently pulled her back from the open TARDIS door, letting the blue wood fall shut against the light (he'd been unable to imagine having a TARDIS that took any other exterior form, after all this time). Rose grinned at him.

The Doctor returned the smile and said, "Your turn to choose where we go."

Rose thought for a moment, but then shook her head. "There're so many things I wanna see. I don't even know where to start," she admitted. "I still don't know half of what's out there in this universe. Not yet," she added. The implied promise in that made the Doctor's single heart beat just a little faster.

"I don't know, either," the Doctor realised. His time helping out Torchwood had made him well aware that the differences from what he knew of his original universe didn't stop at Earth, but he hadn't really considered the consequences of that in terms of his ability to now actually go out there and witness all of those things that would be brand new to him. The thought was exhilarating.

He only had one lifetime to experience it all, now, but he wouldn't trade with that other man who might yet have millennia ahead of him for anything.

"Y'know what? Surprise me," Rose challenged him.

The Doctor managed to surprise himself as well in the process. They stepped out into an unexpected downpour of torrential rain. Rose's laugh carried over the sound of the water pounding down onto the hard-packed pink dirt.

The Doctor watched her as she looked up at the deep purple clouds above them, spinning in a tight circle with her arms extended out and her cupped palms facing up as if trying to catch the rain and hold onto it, to make it hers just for a little while.

He reached for her, fully intending to simply catch her outstretched hands in his and instead somehow finding himself holding her about the waist.

Her wide eyes, lined with droplets of water across her eyelashes, looked at him then with the same sort of silent awe with which she'd watched the supernova earlier. Even having spent two years together after they'd each made their respective admissions to each other, this particular type of closeness was still foreign to them.

They'd somehow fallen back into the same trap they'd been in before, stuck there on Earth. The Doctor didn't plan to continue settling for that anymore than he'd settle for an ordinary life on that one little (but admittedly always so very brilliant) planet in that one time.

The Doctor's fingers twitched against the wet material of her shirt as he leaned in impulsively and captured her lips. She tasted of rain, and hints of toothpaste, and chips with vinegar, and – most importantly – of Rose. The Doctor felt for that moment as if he was taking refuge from the storm only to drown in her instead.

When he pulled away, he breathed, "Surprise."

Rose's eyes sprang back open.

They looked at each other for a long moment, each seeing exactly how much like a drowned rat the other looked, and not caring that they must look equally ridiculous themselves.

Their laughter echoed.

Hand in hand, they ran.

~FIN~