Here is the final installment of 'A Novel of Impossible Things'. It's been an absolute pleasure to write, and the support shown for this story has been amazing. Thank you for reading and reviewing - I hope you will join me for more Who!Fic adventures to come.

Thank you

For those who were wondering, this story takes place toward the end of season two, post Age of Steel.

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"Doctor!"

Rose ran into the console room, waving the book around in her hand.

"Doctor," she said when she saw him, brainy specs in hand, glaring at some trinket on the console.

"Finished already?" The Doctor asked, frowning. "It hasn't even been an hour. I'm sure it hasn't been an hour. In fact, if it had already been an hour, that little nozzle would have started spurting acid and we both would be dead by now!" He pressed a few buttons and disconnected a large, purple nozzle from a spike on the console. "There," he said, looking at it for a few seconds, then throwing it over his shoulder. "Much better." He grinned. "Now, what did you have to show me?"

He held his hand out for the book, wiggling his fingers like he had last Christmas with the Sycorax. Rose threw it into his hands like it was burning her own. "A Journal of Impossible Things, by Verity Newman," he read. "Never heard of it."

Rose took a step away from The Doctor and the book.

"What?" he asked, noticing her reluctance. "Didn't you like it?" he tossed it from hand to hand, lovingly. "Wait, you can't have not liked it already, you've barely had it an hour. Terrible first chapter? Don't worry, the first chapters of the best books are always pants." He plonked the book on the console. "Pants…" he repeated thoughtfully. "What do you think, Rose? Pants…is that me?"

"Thought you were more a 'rubbish' man, actually," Rose said noncommittally.

"Oi!" The Doctor punched. "Rubbish man, indeed. That was quite clever, Rose, are you clever now?" he took off his brainy specs and studied her. Rose shrugged. "Well then," he said, returning his attention back to the book, "tell me what you didn't like. Was it boring? Was it rude? Was it alive? I've stumbled upon the odd living book myself; all fangs and spit just like that monster book in Harry Potter…but without Hagrid…unless Hagrid was me, of course, but I don't think I'm quite that robust, do you, Rose?" He took another quick look at her. "Actually, don't answer that, Miss Rubbish Man." He clicked his tongue. "Come to think of it, I'm fairly certain, 94.5% certain that the Monster book of Monsters was based on that book, well…that race of books, well…that race of book-shaped aliens from the planet Farlo in the Boronial System. Actually. 95% sure…" he trailed off, noticing Rose hadn't interrupted him yet. "Rose…" He took his glasses off again to look at her properly. "Rose, what's wrong?"

Rose leaned in front of him and picked up the book. She took in a deep breath and opened it to the shiny section, leafing through till she found the right picture. The picture of herself. She turned the book around so that it was facing him.

"What's that?" she asked.

The Doctor put his brainy specs back on and squinted at the picture. "Well…it looks like you…"

"Yeah."

"But it can't be, surely," The Doctor said, stroking his chin. "Tens of thousands of years of humanoid creatures in even more planets…the probability of that being you is tiny, Rose. Miniscule." He squinted at the picture again. "Remarkable likeness though," he backtracked.

"It's me."

"No," The Doctor said. Rose shot him a disbelieving look. "Alright then," he said. "Planet of publication?"

"Earth."

"City of publication?"

"London."

"Year of publication?"

"2009."

"Ha!" The Doctor said, breaking their question/answer routine. "2009 hasn't even happened yet!"

"And you live in a time machine. You said it has every best-seller ever written. Ever to be written."

"Yeah, good point, don't know why I said that…" The Doctor trailed off. "Still…you never know…"

Rose shook her head. "I know," she said and turned the page a few times.

"That's a dalek!" The Doctor said as she showed him the page.

"Yeah."

"But that's…blimey, Rose, then it's you!"

"Yeah."

The Doctor took the book off her and turned it back to the page with her face on. He pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and scanned it, but what he was hoping to find, Rose didn't know. He lifted it up to his nose, just like she had and squinted at it.

"It's got your name on," he said.

"On the caption, I know," Rose replied. "Doctor, what does it mean?"

He was still squinting at the picture. "She will not answer me and she keeps walking away," he read. "That's…" he leaned back on the console. "No…no…that's my handwriting."

"What?"

"On your face, that's my writing. In my dreams I keep asking a girl where to find one. One what?"

"I don't know."

The Doctor turned that page, looked through the pictures. "Look," he said, showing her another. "Are You My Mummy?"

Rose smiled and let a little laugh escape her lips. The Doctor smiled back, savouring the memory, and flipped the pages over again.

"Oh…it's me!" He pointed at the new page, grinning with delight.

"What? Where?"

Rose looked over his shoulder. He was fingering the page with the eight different men on it. "Really?" she said. "Which one? How long ago?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No," he said. "They're me. They're all me."

Rose traced them all with her hand, trying to soak up each one. "You're number ten, yeah?" she asked. "So it's just you and…and the last you that are missing?"

"Yeah," he said, watching her look at the different versions of him. He noticed her wide eyes, her short breath and the smile that crept over her features.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, her fingers coming to rest on the hand that was holding the book open. His hand.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat and turning the page. "What else…" he stopped at another page. "Ooh, the Sisters of Plentitude. Remember that, Rose? With the cats and Cassandra and, oh, you kissed me!" he accused, as though he'd only just remembered.

"That was Cassandra," Rose argued, willing the blood to stay out of her cheeks.

"Course it was," The Doctor grinned, cheekily. "Well there you go," he said, looking back at the pictures of the Cat Nurses. "All drawn by John Smith, in 1913, no less." He came across the picture of the Empire State Building. "Now that didn't exist in 1913," he said with a frown.

"And cats in wimples did?" Rose asked.

"Well, no…" said The Doctor. "At least not on Earth. Regular Earth, of course, not New Earth. You know what this means, don't you, Rose?"

"What?"

"I'm a best-selling author!"

He grinned like an idiot and Rose rolled her eyes. "Come off it," she said, snatching the book back. "It was written by Verity Newman."

The Doctor frowned again. "Verity Newman…Verity Newman…v-v-v-Verity. Good name, Verity."

"Do you know her?"

"Not from a bar of soap," he replied with a shrug. He turned the book over and looked at the blurb. 'Argh," he exclaimed, dropping it to the floor, much like Rose had earlier.

"What?" she asked.

The Doctor traipsed around the floored book like he was walking on eggshells. "That's the future," he said, pointing at it.

"Yeah, I told you, it gets published in 2009," Rose said. Did he ever listen to her?

"Not the book," he said, throwing his hand in his hair and doing a ridiculous uncomfortable little dance around the book. "The story. The story is in the future."

"It's in 1913."

"My future," The Doctor corrected. "It's in my future!"

Rose frowned. "Oh."

"A mysterious man named John Smith appears in Farringham in 1913 with a black maid and a secret," he read, from memory of the blurb. "I've never done that."

"What maid?" Rose asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Why not me?"

The Doctor ignored her. "Obviously the secret is that I'm a Time Lord, but..."This is the story of how the alien fell in love with the nurse?" What is this? Mills and Boone?"

Rose thought of the dusty section of library and would have chuckled to herself, were she not a little distraught by the wording of the blurb. "What nurse?" she asked, feeling small and insignificant. "A maid and a nurse and no Rose Tyler…" she whispered.

"I can't read this," The Doctor said, shuffling the book with his feet. "There are some things I can't know and – fell in love with the nurse?" He looked up at the ceiling, incredulously. "That's ridiculous."

Rose's heart warmed a little. "Right…" she said, her frown loosening.

"Me, fall for a human? Ha!"

Rose's eyes went wide for a moment, before she closed them, just in case any tears came for a visit. Was that really what he thought? Not that it was any of her business, of course, but hadn't they…weren't they…? Had she still gotten it wrong, after all this time?

She chanced a look at him and saw that his full attention was on her, his eyes narrowed and focussed. "Rose…" he said.

"What?" she asked, accusingly. "It's your future, I won't read it. I get it."

She picked the book up and turned to leave.

"Rose -"

"Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for you," she said, anger getting the better of her. God, she hated that she got so jealous. She was a jealous stupid ape, just like her Northern Doctor would have said, but she really couldn't help it. It was her biggest flaw and it was who she was and if The Doctor didn't like it, he could just tell her to shove it, like he obviously was going to at some point in the future for him to swan off to 1913 with a maid and a nurse.

"Rose, stop."

She stopped, but she didn't turn around. "I didn't mean that," he said, a little quieter. Rose turned around, holding her breath. "Well, when I say I didn't mean that, I mean that I didn't mean to say that I would never…because…well, that's mean."

Great. Now he wasn't making sense.

Rose turned to leave again.

"Wait!" he called. Rose faced him again. "Really, Rose…do I need to explain to you that you're…that I'm…" he trailed off as she stood there, still and looking at him. "You really are stupid sometimes…" he whispered.

"What?"

"I can't help it, Rose," The Doctor said. "This is just a bit…odd," he said. "I'm not used to things being out of order like this." He took a step towards her. "Well, I'm used to things being out of order, but not like this. Not in a book." He took the book from her and placed it on the console. "I don't want to know that I'm going to be in Farringham and that I'm going to…be with a nurse, or love her or any rubbish like that…" Rose shuffled, uncomfortably. "You're right, actually, rubbish does work…"

"Doctor!"

"Sorry, right…" Rose shuffled in her place. "Do you think I want to face up to the fact that one day I'm going to lose you?" Rose shivered. "Because I will, Rose. One day you're going to get old or get married or get hurt and I'm going to lose you. I've told you this before. You wither and die and I…" he trailed off. "You don't know what that's like…"

Rose took his hand. "And you're not even the one who'll be gone."

The Doctor looked at her. "Of course…it's your life. It doesn't necessarily mean…you might leave for Jackie. Or Mickey. Or you might -"

"I thought we'd been through this, Doctor," Rose sighed. "I'm never gonna leave you. Not for Mum, not for Mickey…he's stuck in another universe, for god's sake. And the only way I'd ever leave you was if I got stuck somewhere too. In another universe, or 18th century France or the Sanctuary Base…I'd rather die. You know that, Doctor. I'd rather die than lose you."

And all of a sudden, Rose realized they had stepped into dangerous territory. Not the kind that was found on the Sanctuary Base, but the kind that existed only between them, like a polarized force field that bound them together, but kept them apart.

And all of a sudden, Rose had forgotten why she was so angry.

'Rose…" The Doctor said, carefully. "I know. And I…well…you know too."

Rose nodded. "Yeah…" she said. "Yeah I do."

"And this?" he said, picking up the novel. "This is nothing. We don't even know how far away this is. Could be a hundred years. Could be two hundred."

"Could be two."

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah. It could be. But you can't let it rule you. It's time. It's always in flux and always unpredictable."

"Unless you're a Time Lord," Rose said, with a tiny smile.

"Especially if you're a Time Lord," he said, gravely. "Now…" he shuffled the book between his hands, "You could dwell on this book for the rest of your life, wondering when you're going to leave or die," he said, swallowing painfully on the word, "Or you could live today just for today. Just for you and me. And take the future each day as it comes." He took her hand. "How does that sound?"

"Sounds a little clichéd…" Rose said, taking the book from him. "But it sounds good enough for me."

The Doctor grinned and pulled her in for a hug. She breathed deeply, exhaling her need to cry into The Doctor's shoulder, and taking in his safe, heady scent instead. He was right, of course. She could only live each day as it came. For her. And for him. She swore she would live for him.

"Now," he said, pulling her back as though he could hear her thrumming for him, "Shall we try a slightly less melodramatic book this time?"

Rose laughed. "We?"

The Doctor smiled. "Well, we can't have you picking another disaster like that, can we?" he said and she punched him in the arm.

"Oi!"

"Oi, yourself!" he said, nudging her. "Still, if this has shown me one thing, it's that the future me is going to come across some fairly good illustrating skills."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Don't think all that much of yourself, do you?"

"Not hardly," The Doctor grinned back. "Now, what do you think of Seven Brides for Seven Slitheen?"

And he led her back to the library, for some reading, cuddling in front of the fire and yet another wordless promise that they would be together forever.

Until forever ended.

The end.