Author's Note: This is the last chapter for this story. Thank you all who've been reading. This chapter was going to be a little bit more involved, but I decided to tailor it, thinking simpler is better. Reviews are welcome, as always, and should you leave a review, I'll actually respond; I feel bad for not having done so in the past. :)

Chapter 10: Everything

"What's it like?" asked Rose, pulling up the sheet as she snuggled into the Doctor's chest.

"What's what like?" he said almost dreamily, stroking her hair and coaxing it behind her ear.

"You know, the Bonding."

"Ah. I don't actually know. I've never been Bonded before."

"It won't hurt, will it?" She tucked her chin into her chest and exhaled deeply.

"No, I don't think so. Don't think too many people'd do it, then. But I've heard it's fairly intense. Very personal. Though I'm not sure exactly what that means."

There was a moment of quiet. Rose turned around so that she was facing the Doctor as they lay on the bed. She kissed his chest, remembering the smell of him on that day when he came back. Everything had smelled so salty and tainted with want of hope. Now she smelled only his skin and the faint scent of the cotton sheets in which they were entwined. He smelled like the wood of the TARDIS, slightly of sweat, vaguely of the machinery below the console, and something else light-smelling but far more complicated, which she liked to think was the smell of Time, but it was probably just his shampoo.

"Mmm," she hummed, enjoying their closeness. They both closed their eyes and tightened slightly the grip they had upon each other, savoring the time alone without the constant shadow of Captain Jack Harkness.

"I never said 'thank you', you know," she said.

"You're thanking me? What on Gallifrey did I do to deserve that?"

He raised an eyebrow, but she didn't see; much of her face was buried in his chest.

"For coming back for me. For not stopping. For wanting me. For so many things. You saved me, you did."

He looked down at her, his eyes wide with surprise and wonder. Rose was always surprising him.

"Rose, I don't think I ever had a choice either way."

He took a deep breath. Usually he would get tangled over his words, say something irrelevant or absolutely wrong. This time, however, he knew exactly what he needed to say.

"I think, Rose, that I had to come for you, because I need you. I want you too, more than anything in the Universe, but something in me knew that I needed you beyond attraction and fancy." He paused, fearing an onslaught of everything he wanted to say coming out in a deluge of nonsense.

"When I met you, when I had big ears, I think that the Universe made some kind of connection—like," he paused looking for the right words, "like it recognized two similar patterns, one in you and one in me, and it thought they should go together. Going well together made our patterns dependent on each other. It made me dependent on you and you on me. I don't know if this is true…I know a lot about the Universe, but I don't know everything—but don't tell Jack that—and I don't know why the Universe would care so much about two tiny individuals within the whole scope of Infiniti, unless, well, unless maybe pattern recognition like that is just an automatic involuntary process—you know, matching up like ends, connecting what needs to be connected. I think that was us, Rose. I think in us the Universe made a connection."

He looked down at her; she hadn't said a word the whole time, hadn't interrupted him to ask questions, as she would usually, which was very unlike her. She had let him have that entire monologue without interference.

Her breathing was steady and slow. And she was asleep.

"M'not 'sleep," she croaked. "Heard you. Love you."

He smiled and reached an arm to turn off the lamp.

He was thinking about everything, but he usually thought about everything. This time, however, he was really, thoroughly thinking about everything, and it was completely overwhelming.

Rose and the Doctor held hands near the console of the TARDIS. Their hands were grasped so tightly that they were both white-knuckled, but neither of them felt the pressure of the other.

The room had gone dark for a moment when he asked Jack to slam the left of the console with a small crowbar and then press the purple button that looked sort of like an over-sized jellybean.

In doing this, the Doctor had told Jack to open the Vortex. Rose had gasped, first at the loss of light, then the faint tingling sensation she felt between her and the Doctor's fingers. It felt like low-level static electricity that persisted and grew slowly, not so that it hurt, but so that it made itself gradually more known.

The lights came back up to their normal shadowy yellow-orange hue. But the tingling did not stop. Jack continued to look at the console and flicked a couple more switches when the Doctor nodded slightly in his direction.

Suddenly, but faintly, they were surrounded by pale white threads of light that seemed to grow out of their skin. Jack did not notice this development. He did not notice it because he could not see it.

She turned to the Doctor who had in turn turned to face her, and they joined both hands as they watched the pale threads cast themselves upwards, almost dancing. As their own threads moved closer to their counterparts, Rose's mind began to race quite involuntarily.

She thought of a chummy looking man in a leather jacket. She thought how adorable his dopey smile was. She thought about the first time she saw a Dalek and the look of hatred that became etched upon the Doctor's formerly friendly features. She thought of his intensity, the way he protected her. She thought of his warmth. Of his skin, the way it felt when she touched it when he wasn't expecting it, which seemed like all the time, as if he was still surprised that she was with him and that she wanted him. She thought of his regeneration and how he lost his old self, who he was really starting to like, and was instead skinny and tall and not ginger. And he was rude. She thought of how rude he was and how he really must watch what he said because Rose was very pretty and the kindest person he had ever met and he thought, perhaps, if it wasn't something completely out of the question for a Time Lord, especially him, that he might even love Rose Tyler; so he should be sure not to burn any bridges with his thoughtless words.

She realized that the thoughts she was thinking were now not just her own.

The Doctor, too, was thinking of everything.

He thought of a lovely, pink, blond girl with a smile that made his knees weak, though he'd never actually admit it. He thought about how brave she was when they met a Dalek in Utah. He thought about when he considered telling her she made his knees weak, a fleeting consideration long ago, but had shrugged off such a notion, and opted instead for a kind of numb denial. He thought about humanity, her humanity. He felt it. He felt the contrasts: love and hate, fear and pleasure. He felt her pain, her intensity, convoluted emotions that made his head spin. He felt her warmth, not just the sensation of her skin against his, but the warmth of her mind within his own. He felt the Bad Wolf lingering in the backmost, unchartered part of her mind; a light so dim it was almost out.

They opened their eyes to find the air bursting with streaks of light, the threads from their skin twining and pulling together, forcing themselves into a single strand.

While Jack could not see any of this, he clearly felt something in the air. His body shook slightly in a manner not dissimilar to an animal before a storm. He gazed back and forth between Rose and the Doctor and the console, waiting for the Doctor to tell him to use the crowbar and hit the console with all of his strength as he had instructed him to do earlier. Apparently the jellybean button would only open the Vortex, but not close it.

The Doctor was thinking of everything. So was Rose. The idea of wedding plans seemed so silly to her now. Choosing a dress, wondering who to invite, where they should go afterward on their honeymoon. She chuckled inwardly at the thought, and the Doctor, feeling it, chuckled too. How could she have bothered herself with picking the perfect dress, even though she did look lovely in it, or making sure the Doctor acquired and wore his usually slim-fitting suit—this time in black—and clean black trainers? It seemed very trivial now. None of those things mattered except for this moment.

Rose heard the Doctor thinking deliberately so that she could hear him in her mind clearly and distinctly.

Rose Tyler, he thought, I love you, forever. You're exactly what I waited 900 years for. I promise to love you—all of you—forever.

She smiled, tears running down her cheeks, and she too thought loudly, I'll think myself the luckiest shop girl for as long as I live. You're everything. I'll need you and want you and I promise to love you forever.

With those words, tears streaming down both of their faces, the single thread that had formed above them from their many threads brightened violently and lit the entire room in a reddish-orange glow, then faded to pink, then purple, then blue, until the light faded back to white and extinguished itself. The Doctor nodded to Jack, who took the crowbar and landed it forcefully on the console. The Vortex closed.

The glow of the Doctor's mind remained in her own. While she could no long hear his thoughts, a prospect which would have been completely overwhelming should it have continued, she could still feel the presence of his mind. She could feel his feelings, while only slightly, and they felt like the most important force in the world. They were something to cling onto.

He too felt her, the warm presence of her mind near his. It was soothing and calming and perfect. He wanted to think of the planet he was going to take her to, of which for the life of him he could not recall the name; he wanted to think of the massive bouquet of sunflowers he had procured for her, because she hated roses. But he did not.

His mind was empty but for one thing for the first time in his entire life. Rose Tyler.

END