A Rose For Everafter

A Doctor Who Short Story

Tegan: It smells like roses.

The Doctor: Yes, I've never quite understood why.

—about the Zero Room, Castrovalva

Summary: When the Doctor steps through the crack in Amy's wall he finds something— and someone— he didn't expect.

Author's Note: I apologize in advance for any errors in the geography of London. I researched and everything for this fic even though I kinda made up my own layout anyway, but I've never been there so please forgive! I did strive for accuracy.

Anyway, this idea came to me a couple months ago and I couldn't get it out of my head. That's usually how my stories are except I actually wrote this one down! I was really into it, and I'm proud of myself for completing and publishing a fiction, and I'm proud of how the fic turned out, so please read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or settings in this story, I only claim ownership for the words and ideas I've presented.

"Funny," the Doctor began to little Amelia as she lay in her bed. "Thought that if you could hear me, I could hang on somehow. Silly me... Silly old Doctor..." Pause. "When you wake up, you'll have a Mum and Dad. And you won't remember me. Well, you'll remember me a little. I'll be a story in your head. That's okay; we're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one. 'Cause it was, you know. It was the best," he said, emphasizing his words by pointing and stabbing lightly into the blanket covering her. He did it as if she could see him, but he knew she couldn't.

"A daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away." He paused, closing his eyes tiredly, and then with sudden interest, as if he'd just thought of it, "Did I ever tell you that I stole it? Well, borrowed it; I was always gonna take it back. Oh, that box, Amy. You'll dream about that box. It'll never leave you. Big and little at the same time. Brand new and ancient. And the...bluest...blue...ever. And the times we had. Woulda had. Never had. In your dreams they'll still be there. The Doctor and Amy Pond. And the days that never came."

The Doctor looked toward the crack in Amelia's wall as he heard its rumbling and crackling. "The cracks are closing," he continued, almost as if it were of no importance. "But they can't close properly 'til I'm on the other side. I don't belong here anymore." He paused again, suddenly looking very sad and tired. Then, pulling his nose, he turned back to Amelia. "I think I'll skip the rest of the rewind. I hate repeats." The Doctor rose from the rocking chair and kissed little Amelia on the forehead as she lay sleeping peacefully in her bed. "Live well. Love Rory. Bye-bye, Pond."

With that he turned, feeling very old, and walked away from the child— but not just the child, the world— that might never know him.

And he stepped through the crack, because that was all there was to do. What use was there in staying to see the rest of his life unfold when he had already done everything he could to get it back? Stepping through the crack was like taking a cold shower, or maybe a warm one, he would never know for sure. His expectations of the other side of the crack were bleak. He supposed there would be blackness, and then he would know nothing because there was nothing, and then if he was right about his plan (and he was almost always right about his plans) things should go back to normal.

What the Doctor did not expect to find on the other side of the crack was a street. Confused, the Doctor turned around in a circle, blinking, surveying the surrounding area. The crack rumbled shut. The street he was standing in was void of people and only lit by streetlamps. Cars would pass every now and then but for the most part the area was quiet. It was night in this place. Snow covered the ground, but it had been pushed aside to form mounds in corners and beside sidewalks.

This isn't right, the Doctor thought. I should be nowhere, in neverspace. I should know nothing, be nothing, never have lived. And yet here he was, very much alive and feeling cold and tired. Inside his chest at the core of his being he could feel a thrumming that he couldn't explain, a new, unfamiliar feeling, something he could only immediately liken to the sound of drums that played in his arch-nemesis the Master's head, all throughout his body, something that was there and constant and never-ending.

A brief flood of fear shot through the Doctor and he immediately pushed it away. He was not like the Master, and he was not becoming like him. This thrumming felt like it was part of him, his guide. It felt like a benevolent force that was trying to move him where he should go, and it felt very right. It was as if the TARDIS was there with him, as if somehow she was watching over him. He liked that.

A wind blew down the street and the Doctor started moving. Catching sight of a street sign, he saw it said Squirrel's Heath Lane. The Doctor stopped again, pondering. After a moment of deliberation he decided he knew where he was. Right, so he was in London, Earth. Well, that wasn't right, but since standing around wouldn't help him figure out what was going on and would quite literally get him nowhere, he moved down Squirrel's Heath Lane once more.

The Doctor's mind immediately went to work trying to pinpoint the time he was in now that he thought he had the place. Judging by the décor and the smell, the city was somewhere in the mid 21st century. The Doctor's mind was still not at ease concerning something about the place (besides that he wasn't supposed to be there at all), but since he was there he decided to walk for a bit, explore. He could feel curiosity and a sense of purpose physically inside himself in the form of the new force, the thrumming.

The Doctor moved throughout the city, turning on street corners for reasons he knew not but that he also felt were somehow right. He wondered when his resuscitation would come. He had thought it would come right away. Surely if he was conscious in this neverspace he could come back to the real world.

The thought hit him harder than Rory's punch. Unless...unless this was a different world. Then he was certainly still alive, just— just— on the wrong side of the crack. It came to him in a wave and he spun a full 360 degrees to take a new look at his surroundings. Yes, 21st century buildings, streets, street lamps, but where exactly was he? More important, even than that, why was he here? Had he been wrong about the nature of the crack? Was it a transport instead of a death trap? Well, certainly Rory had ended up in a different place instead of not having existed, but that was Rory and the Alliance had needed him for their plan. Did they still need the Doctor, was this some part of the plan? No, surely not, he reasoned with himself. There was no way that was even possible.

The whole thing was very strange. He wasn't in neverspace or even E-space, he couldn't be part of anyone's plan at the moment (having never existed and all), and he wasn't dreaming (or at least he hoped the Dreamlord hadn't wormed his way into this...) No, it was settled, he was on a different place, in a different time, and by the looks of the neighborhood he was in, a different world. The Doctor didn't remember any part of the London he was currently standing in looking quite like this back on earth, his earth, in the mid 21st century.

Using his sonic screwdriver he tested the parameters of the sky. If the parameters came back as non-existant (or at least close) he was certainly on a planet. The screwdriver came up with a blank reading. He tested the air with a finger. He knew it! There was something different about this air, something just so subtle that he couldn't really tell what it was until he knew what it was. Yes...yes, he was on a parallel world!

So he was on a parallel world, a world he assumed was a parallel earth. But which parallel earth? There were an infinite number. But the Doctor knew without even thinking which earth he had come to. What other earth would his mind take him to than the one he had left Rose on? That was how his mind worked, and he cringed inside thinking about it, thinking about how different he was now. Of how he would appear to Rose if she saw him, that he was too different from his past selves, and yet his mind still took him to where she was.

And he thought of how, on this earth somewhere, Rose was with the Doctor that wasn't him, and how he felt about that he wasn't sure. For one thing he knew Rose could heal his human duplicate like she had healed him when he was in his ninth form, but on the other hand he had been awfully selfish just dumping Rose with him-but-not-him. He had hoped that...well, it didn't matter what he had hoped.

The Doctor walked on, urged by the thrumming to continue moving. The streets were void of people, and unlike normal he began to feel tired again. He supposed that was the side effect of not existing. Lights glittered from the shop windows and Christmas decorations hung from every available space. The Doctor realized that it must be near to Christmas on this earth.

After winding down several snow-covered streets and alleys for what felt like a long time, the thrumming in his chest seemed to ease as he came upon a nicely lit apartment. Most other apartments were dark or dimly lit for the night, but not this one. The Doctor stopped across the street from the apartment to look, the thrumming, like curiosity, in his chest. All the lights seemed to be on in the front room. The apartment was so enchanting that the Doctor stood and looked in at the decorations. He could really only see the light-colored curtains and some Christmas lights along the upper wall. No tree was in sight, but all the same the apartment gave off a homey feel.

Suddenly some lights flicked off from inside and everything started going dark. The Doctor felt strangely disappointed that this one beacon of hope in this drab street had gone off, but he didn't have long to ponder this as the apartment door swung open and a woman came out in a warm-looking coat carrying a trash bag, calling over her shoulder in a laughing voice, "Yes, dear, I will be just a minute— you know it's my day to take out the trash!" and she lugged a bulky bag of trash toward the trash bin.

The Doctor knew that voice; he knew the way that woman moved. His hearts immediately quickened while the woman lifted the bin lid and flung the trash atop it. The bag was too big and bulky to fit down inside so she started to stuff the bag in at the edges of the bin. But the Doctor's attention was arrested as a man came out of the now completely dark apartment, holding the hands of two young children on either side of him. The man had two pairs of ice skates slung around his shoulders, one adult- and one child-sized. It was him. Him, the Doctor, as the younger, more brooding man he had been when he had known Rose.

He was calling, "Rose, honey, you're going to make us late, your mom and dad and Randy are waiting for us. Just set the trash down and come on— you know how they get when they're impatient!" And while the man grinned broadly the children tugged on his mittened hands and laughed.

"No we don't!" the boy shouted. He had his own ice skates slung around his neck.

"I want to go!" the girl shouted. Apparently the latter was the younger of the two, and she was very vocal. She continued tugging on who the Doctor assumed was her father's hand and chattering nonsensically about what she thought was important, while the boy pulled the man down the steps and the father and mother were laughing and yelling at each other over the ruckus.

"Just go!" yelled Rose mirthfully as the children tugged their father in the opposite direction of the trash bins. Turning his head slowly, the Doctor could hear the noise and see the bright lights at the end of the street, a light he had only vaguely registered before stopping to look at the apartment.

"Rose— Rose, they've got me!" the father yelled playfully as the children dragged him off with surprising speed. The Doctor could hear the children's laughter and yelps mixed with the scuffle of the trio's feet in the snow fading away as they headed toward the end of the street and turned the corner.

And then the Doctor realized he was alone with Rose as she tried to stuff the big bag into the bin. He noted that she looked somewhat older and her shoulder-length hair was darker, more toward its natural brown than the bleached blonde she'd kept it when he'd known her.

Without even thinking about it (later he would recollect that he had felt prompted by the thrumming in his chest), he started crossing the street. Rose looked up, startled, not knowing anyone had been around. Of course she would be startled, the Doctor thought. A strange man crossing the street toward her at rapid speed, wearing a bow tie. Absurd. He stopped a good distance away from her, a little up the road from the trash bins but close enough to see her. The Rose he knew braced herself for whatever was to come and smiled an uncertain smile at the stranger.

"Oi, mate," she said in a friendly-as-possible voice, "you're going to catch your death walking around like that."

The Doctor looked down at himself, dressed as usual in the tweed, slacks, and button-up. He really didn't agree so he said, "I'm fine. I dress like this all the time."

"Ah, well, you must not have been here long. We're having a cold winter for London. Not so cold today, mind, but still..." Glancing at him she cautiously went back to stuffing the too-large bag into the bin.

"Ah, yes, well, as a matter of fact I haven't been here for too long— only a few minutes actually— well, a little longer if you count all the walking..."

Rose laughed at that. "Ok, then," she said, shaking her head. She glanced at him disbelievingly and gave an extra shove to the bag.

"Yes, well... Here— let me help you with that—" and in a few strides he had reached her and was methodically fitting the bag into the bin at impossible angles. "Say, what is in here? Ooh, I think this is crinkly paper— and a box! I do love a good box! Ribbons, bows, a broken box cutter— ow!" he pulled his finger away abruptly, looking intently at her. "Say, is it the 26th of December, by any chance?"

"Yes!" Rose said, her look of puzzlement at his behaviour changing to one of laughter. "Of course it is! How could you not know?"

"Excellent! That is a great day! Of course, not as good as the one before it, or the night before that day, but still, the day after Christmas— everyone loves a good post-holiday rest. Or as I saw, a good post holiday skate, eh?"

The smile on Rose's face slipped off and her hand flew to a place inside her jacket and rested there nervously. "Have you been watching us?" she asked fearfully. And yet she was brave, braver than when he knew her. She had grown into a woman who had control of her life, and yet who was also nervous for her own safety. How had this happened?

"No, no, Rose! No, not at all!" he proclaimed, slowly backing away from her with his hands held placatingly. He stumbled over a snow mound but caught himself while she murmured in a more threatening voice than he had ever heard from her, "How do you know my name?"

"I— well— I just know it, we met once—"

"We never met!"

"I know you— Wait, no, don't look like that, Rose! Not in a creepy spy 'woo woo—'" Rose did not seem amused by his finger actions, "Peeping Tom way, just, Rose... Trust me. I'm not here to harm you, I'm not actually sure why I'm here, I just am..." He paused, uncertain. "And I couldn't resist," he said finally. The look on his face was pained and almost regretful as he finished.

"Couldn't resist? Couldn't resist what, exactly? And how do you know my name?" Her face flickered uncertainly and she knew she shouldn't hesitate but she still hadn't pushed the button inside her jacket calling her husband. There was something about this man that was so familiar and so non-threatening even though it was nonsensical to think so.

He paused before he spoke, and when he did he looked very old and sad. "I couldn't resist seeing you. I know I should've... Everything would've been easier; you would have never known I was here..."

Rose's hand fell from her jacket and she stared at him numbly. This could not be happening. Not again. Not now when she had her Doctor and a good life and two beautiful children. She didn't know how long she stared at him, but she finally heard the word slip from her mouth.

"Doctor?"

He gave a small smile. "Yes." It was somewhere between a question and a statement.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she was bounding toward him and flinging her arms around his neck. His look of honest fright at her rush turned into a look of surprise, and by the time she had her arms around his neck he was smiling softly. Typical Rose.

This was honestly not the reaction she would have expected from herself. After he had left her on this earth with a look-alike Doctor she didn't know whether to be angry, hurt, or flattered. She had finally settled on satisfied since she knew he, the Doctor, was never going to come back for her. It just couldn't happen.

And yet here he was, somehow, inexplicably. Emotions rushed through her as she pressed herself to him. He was so different feeling. He was taller and yet not as thin but oh-so-awkward in his presentation... She pulled away, trying to hide her tears, and rested her hands on his upper arms. She took a good look at him.

"Well, Doctor...you've changed again."

"Yes, a short time after I...left here, actually. The TARDIS was crashing too, she rebuilt herself..." He left off, not sure why he was even telling her this. From the half-formed plan that had been in his brain when he'd started crossing the street he thought he would just help her with the trash and quietly slip away. He had just wanted to see how she was, if she was happy.

"Oh, really, where is she?" Rose asked, her eyes sparking with interest.

"Well, she's not here, actually. I'm not supposed to be here either..." the Doctor pulled away from her hands on his arms and turned around, staring down the street inquisitively, his mind back to the strange circumstances. He turned back around. "But I am here, which is very strange and impossible, so of course very interesting, but I don't think I'll have time to figure it out before I go back."

"When will that be?" Rose asked quietly. She looked a little sad but not disappointed. The Doctor was glad for this.

His eyes flicked to the side. "I'm not sure. I thought sooner than this, for sure."

"Doctor?"

"Yes?" He cleared his throat nervously.

"Why are you here?"

"I...it's very complicated. A new world crisis, of course," he smiled lopsidedly. "New things going on now, you know. It's probably best for you not to know."

She smiled wryly. Same old Doctor. "Yes, of course." She could believe all his statements very easily, although she had to agree with the two former most readily.

An awkward silence followed in which neither one knew what to say. After a moment they both started at once.

"Doctor—"

"Rose—"

They both laughed. "Doctor, I was just going to say that I need to go. My...they're waiting on me, my family."

"Yes, your family. I take it the two little ones are your..." he gave an involuntary cringe, "children?"

"Yes!" Rose chortled. "Don't act like it's so bad! You said yourself once that you had children, a long time ago. Back on earth, remember? With the Isolus... You were quite affectionate then," she teased, tongue in teeth.

"Yes, well, I was different then. A different man, wasn't I? I mean, it's not so bad, children, really, but really, children. No, I don't think— no. That would never work." He seemed to have some sort of image in his head of children in the TARDIS because he made a motion as if he were closing the TARDIS doors for good.

Rose laughed heartily. Somehow she did not feel saddened by the appearance of this new Doctor, this different man. He was still the Doctor, but he was not her Doctor. And as this realization washed over her she smiled softly at this strange being in front of her who was still muttering to himself about children as if he was trying to find some reasonable explanation for them.

"You were a child once, you silly man," she said in a play-reprimanding voice. She grinned at him as his attention was once again turned to her.

He smiled at her smile and settled himself with his hands in his pockets. "I'm glad to see you happy, Rose," he said after a bit, his gaze flicking to the apartment building wall.

"Yes, well, I... It took a while, well, a little bit, really. You— he— was so accepting of who I was, ready to take me for what I was. He just...opened my heart to the reality of what he was, of who he was, of the gift he was even though he said...he said that was not what you, the actual, old you, had in mind. I mean," she hurried on, before any expression could cross his face, "I know you meant the best, and he explained that you had to change, that you had to go on and leave me... That you wanted me to be happy and you wanted your duplicate— him— to find healing and everything was so complicated... Doctor, is this making any sense? I just— I just wanted you to know, if for some reason I ever saw you again I knew I would have to tell you what has happened. I hope you understand, I'm not trying to, oh, rub it in or anything. I just really wanted to tell you," she finished, looking a bit flustered.

"Yes," he said, his gaze now on her, "I had hoped something like that would happen." Pause. "I knew he loved you..." he said almost absently and looked up at the sky. Before he knew it Rose had rushed at him again and flung her arms around him again, this time her face against his chest. She was openly sobbing, and the Doctor squirmed uncomfortably. It didn't help that she had her arms wrapped around his. He carefully lifted his arms out from under hers so it wouldn't seem like he was throwing her off (although he kind of wanted to, this regeneration really didn't like this) and draped his arms around her as she nuzzled against his bow tie.

"Doctor," she breathed, "you smell the same and yet different. Always of time, but now of a different man." She sighed happily. "Doctor, I— I am so happy I got to see you once more. I don't know why or how, but I'm so relieved I got to tell you what's happened."

He listened to her muffled voice a little nervously. He hoped Amy wouldn't see the tear stains and wonder what he had been up to while he didn't exist. That would certainly be hard to explain. Thinking of Amy and what was to come he gently brushed his hand across Rose's hair and loosened her grip on him. Rose stepped back easily, her hands still on his upper arms but not possessively.

"Rose," he said, gazing at her fondly, the most fondly he'd gazed at anyone in a long time. "You certainly have grown. Not in size, of course, you are still so very thin—" he held her at arm's length and laughed, "but in person, I can just tell. You are so much more than you used to be, and you were a lot to start with," he grinned. "It must be overwhelming."

She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Oh, well, the Doctor and I do just fine, thank you. We— oh Doctor we do so much!" Renewed excitement was in her voice. "We travel! We haven't for a while actually because of the children, school and everything, and little Donna's been sick—"

"Donna? You named the girl Donna?" the Doctor said incredulously. "Whatever for?"

"Oh! Well, Doctor, remember how Donna was there at the end, when you and I were separated for the last time?"

"— Of course I do—"

"Well, Donna really meant something to me, the way she was so brave and the way she helped reunite you and me, and everything, just everything. She was quite a woman. And the Doctor told me all about her, of course, because I was so curious to know what he'd been up to after I got over the initial shock of, you know, him. —Oh, and of course we had to name our baby girl Donna— she has red hair!"

"What? —What? —How? I don't— Oh Donna!" the Doctor spluttered. The realization had hit him. "Donna's genes— !" he began just as Rose shouted, "The genes, that's exactly what we thought! Donna ended up giving two gifts instead of one— ! Imagine how happy he was to find out he had a red-haired daughter? Mind, she's more of a strawberry-blonde because of my genes and, well, honestly, his, but it's really the sweetest color of red and he was just thrilled. I mean, you should've been there. Or not," she laughed, "that would've been strange. But really, he was so happy, and I was so happy to have her out of me, she made me quite sick, really..."

The Doctor was smiling but also had the look in his eyes that said he didn't really want to hear about it so she laughed and went on. "And our son, he was born about three years after we started living here. He is such a good, adventurous boy, and we named him after you of course." She smiled at him.

"Doc— ?" he began in confusion, but she interrupted.

"No, silly, John Smith. Actually, he is really truly named after his father and after you, which is one and the same, isn't it? —That gets confusing!— because here on earth the Doctor is legally called 'John Smith' although no one calls him that of course if they know him..." She trailed off thinkatively, heaving a big sigh because she was out of breath from all her talking. She stared, unfocused, at the trash bin.

The Doctor stood smiling with his head tilted, looking at her for a moment. He felt something happen to him, the thrumming change, but he ignored it for the time being. "And the two of you work at Torchwood, I suppose? It's good on this planet, eh? Because of the two of you, I'm guessing."

"Oh, yes, Torchwood! It's a good organization here! I suppose it's not too nifty on earth? It's actually a rather large organization here. The government knows about us. The people think they know about us. They do a little. That was why I was so alarmed by you coming up to me like that. Sometimes we get threats."

The Doctor's brow crinkled.

"Oh, Doctor, don't worry about us. It's usually no big deal, and when it is we can hold our own," she continued with enthusiasm. "We have a whole team behind us; plus the whole family is living here in Romford because Torchwood has a foot in the door on the planning developments for the area, and Torchwood isn't going to let the place get too out of hand if they can help it. And we help people now too— although Torchwood does still mainly deal with alien threats and complications, we do things for the community as well." Rose paused, suddenly seeming to think over what she was about to say. She cocked her head, her brow furrowed.

"And you know what? The Doctor hardly misses traveling through time and space. Of course, he does work in the outer space program at Torchwood, but there is so much to do here, between our traveling and our work in the community and liaisons with aliens and— and the children! He has so much to do and we love it and..." Rose let out a big sigh, "We're happy." Rose finished, breathless again, but smiling joyfully. She hadn't known she had it in her, to tell the Doctor that she didn't need him. She felt light and joyful, and oh-so-happy that she had been given this opportunity, and not guilty at all for saying what she had. For all she knew the Doctor had another ginger by now and was traveling time and space with her— or him, she reminded herself. He didn't need her anymore either, that much was obvious.

The Doctor stood smiling at Rose, a little half smile. The thrumming in his chest was becoming more insistent, but not as it had been earlier. Now it was a little painful and felt more like fire than curiosity. But he still ignored it and straightened up, hands in his pockets. He began his explanation for his farewell, "Rose—" just as he heard a shout— his voice, or what it used to be, coming from down the street, from the direction of the well-lit area.

"Rose!" it called, sounding a little worried but not too. The Doctor turned to see an outline of his old self at the end of the street, spikey hair and greatcoat in silhouette.

Rose turned as well, smiling and waving. "Doctor, it's ok, I'm ok, I'm coming!" she shouted.

"Doctor," she said, turning back to him, "I have to go, I figured he would be wondering where I was by now."

"Oh, yes, of course, in fact I was just about to tell you that I think I have to go, so this works out splendidly— " Rose cut him off by flinging her arms around him one last time, squeezing him tightly.

"Rose, won't he wonder— ?" the Doctor began, hugging her back tentatively and glancing nervously down the street. He was sure he saw the man stiffen a little.

"Oh Doctor, you know I'm going to tell him all about this anyway, we don't keep things like this from each other. In fact, we don't keep much at all from each other, but that's beside the point. Of course he'll want to know. I'll tell him." She sighed against his tweed jacket and pulled away. "Goodbye, Doctor, for the last time," she said and smiled. And then to his great surprise she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, just enough for them both to feel it. "That's for everafter," she murmured, the thought coming to her in that instant, and then grinning she spun away from him and ran down the street toward her Doctor, the man she now belonged with. The Doctor did not feel sad to see her go to him as he had long expected he would. And Rose knew then, as she would tell her Doctor later, that she would not have gone with him even if he'd asked.

The Doctor watched as the two met up, linking arms, and the questions poured from the man's mouth. He could almost see them, just as he saw time move and change and the planets turn. The couple glanced back at him once while they walked away, the man curious but not worried, the woman joyful but not insecure. As they turned the corner the Doctor turned away from them. A pang hit him as he once again realized that he could never have that life, just as he'd explained to so many companions, just as he'd explained to Rose herself. That was not his life, and as a fiery pain shot through him, he knew he did not want it, that he was content with his oft-lonely lot in life, just as long as he had a friend every once in a while. As his back wrenched and his head snapped forward, his eyes settled on the long-forgotten bag of trash resting on top the bin.

Grinning, he sauntered over to the bin as the thrumming inside him grew more intense, and soniced around the edges of the bin. Really, quite a simple procedure, he would've done it to begin with except he didn't want to give himself away to Rose. With the sonicing complete he shoved the bag down easily into the bin, and with that motion he felt fire rip through him and himself screaming an unheard scream as he made the transition back to reality. The feeling was like a hot, fire-and-brimstone shower, one the Doctor instantly decided he would not like to experience again. Apparently going out of reality was a lot easier than going back in.

He was in the TARDIS. She was all around him, her thrumming enginesounding comfortingly like home. He opened his eyes blearily and saw he was on the floor by the console. He sat up and got his bearings. Yes, ok, same old TARDIS. What was it he needed to do? Oh yes...

The pain passed in an instant and the Doctor jumped up and ran to the hallways leading back into the TARDIS. Already he could hear Amy, 'There's someone missing. Someone important, someone so, so important.' The Doctor stumbled upon the wardrobe and began pulling things out.'Sorry everyone, but when I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend, the Raggedy Doctor, my Raggedy Doctor. But he wasn't imaginary, he was real.' The Doctor hurried to get ready, finding the perfect suit and hat for Amy's wedding. Yes, these would do the trick, just right. Quickly changing, flinging clothes everywhere (he suddenly remembered changing in the men's locker room at the Leadworth hospital not so very long ago), he soon had on the three-piece suit and classy top hat.

He could hear Amy still, a little more clearly, 'I remember you! I remember! I brought the others back; I can bring you home too! Raggedy man, I remember you! And you are late for my wedding!

Straightening the jacket, he hurried through the labyrinth that was the TARDIS as he heard Amy say, the words reverberating throughout the TARDIS as if she wanted him to hear, 'I found you; I found you in words just like you knew I would; that's why you told me the story, the brand new, ancient blue box. Oh clever, oh very clever.'

And then as he reached the console room he heard through the door Rory say, "Amy, what is it?" And Amy's words of faith in him, the Doctor, "Something old. Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue." And then Rory, "It's the Doctor. How did we forget the Doctor?" Rory said something else but the Doctor couldn't make it out. And while the Doctor leaped over the jump seat he heard a scuffle of jumping and running that he could only assume was Amy as she ran to the TARDIS.

He heard her insistent, very Amy-like knocking on the door and then, "Okay Doctor, did I surprise you this time?" she asked triumphantly. The Doctor slid to a halt in front of the door, straightening up his suit and hat. For a moment he rested a hand against the TARDIS wall, breathing a silent thank you for what she'd done for him. Then he smiled and opened the door with all kinds of casualness.

"Uh, yeah. Completely astonished. Never expected that," the Doctor said to Amy, looking pleased despite his words. "How lucky I happened to be wearing this old thing," he continued while stepping out of the TARDIS. He turned and looked at all the disbelieving wedding-goers around him and said, "Hello, everyone! I'm Amy's imaginary friend! But I came anyway," and shook hands with the father of the bride.

Author's Note: 'Thinkatively' is a word of my own creation. I always thought it was a real word until my mom burst my bubble. So I decided to coin and use it. Look it up on . I would've added it myself but someone got there before me. It basically means 'thoughtful' except with more thinking and less thoughtiness. That last is also a real word.

The reason I wanted to write this fic is because the ending to season four is pretty unsatisfying. But while so many people are negative about it, I've chosen to find the positive in the situation, and am always happy when other fans do the same. I truly think Rose and Human Ten could be happy but the story wasn't very well done in the season finale to make the viewers believe this. And just on a side note, I kinda wrote this fic to be compatible with author Cassandra's story 'Him'. I tried to make it compatible to 'New New Year' as well, but that didn't really work out. Even though she doesn't know it, that is my shameless advertising on her behalf. :D

The title of this story is the title of an episode and a fictional book in the American TV show Castle. I just really liked the poetic sound of the title (and I love the show 3), and I thought the symbolism in the title appropriately showed that this was the Doctor's 'Rose' for everafter, his last happy memory of her. I hope you enjoyed it and please review! I like grammar as well as story structure criticism, so (constructively) criticize away!