Title: Acceptance

Pairing: 10/Rose, with heavy undertones of 9/Rose

Timeline: Directly after the events of "The Girl in the Fireplace"

Summary: Only, it isn't him sprawled over the bed. Not him him, at least. Now, it's the new him, the younger man with light brown hair and darker eyes-The one who is already beginning to replace her memories, even as her heart still holds on to the other.

Thanks to my beta, nightserenade.

Mickey really is trying, she thinks, but his efforts were useless from the beginning. She brings him around the TARDIS, showing him things he's already seen, already knows. Now he's conducting it, asking what's this-and-that, she giving him one-worded replies. The TARDIS hums, a little sadly, in her mind, and she absently pats a section of the wall in reply.

I know. But what can I do? What can I ever do when he's like this?

Another sad hum, and a sad smile finds its way on her face before she realizes it.

Mickey is asking about the library. She gives a short explanation ("You'll find every book from every world from every time, just ask the TARDIS what you want"), and Mickey gets that strange panic-intrigue look whenever she treats the TARDIS as a living being. He hesitantly requests some novel, and gives a squeak of surprise when a book wiggles off a shelf and falls to the floor.

Rose has wandered off to another group of shelves, running her hand over faded leather bindings, bittersweet memories of her first venture here entering her mind. Inhaling, she breathes in leather, and remembers a man with big ears and haunted blue eyes that still makes her heart tremble. But he's gone now, changed, and despite all her efforts to move on, she still sees flashes of blue in those hazel eyes.

Her friend (when had she stopped calling him boyfriend? she wonders) is flipping through the pages, exclaiming that yes, it was real, in an oh-my-god-is-this-a-first-edition? tone of voice. She doesn't find the heart to join in his apparent enthusiasm. She lingers by the leather bindings a little longer, trying to summon fading memories of a leather jacket and infectious smile.

This realization, that she is losing the memories of him, scares her.

Mickey is asking her something, and she blinks, realizing she hadn't even heard it. He repeats it, slower this time, looking at her sharply, trying to figure out what she is feeling. She gives that sad, almost-smile again.

"I . . . I have to go, Mickey. The TARDIS can show you around. Just ask where you want to go."

Then she leaves him, feeling the rift between them getting larger, and doing nothing to stop it, and he's looking like the lost little puppy that was once so endearing but is now just a nuisance. A part of her realizes that she's being harsh, but this journey is not his. Never should have been, never will be. This world isn't right for him.

She refuses to agree with the nagging feeling that she is just possessive of what she thinks is hers alone.

The TARDIS is already chiming softly to Mickey as she exits the room, following the familiar path to his bedroom. She knows he's there, doesn't know why, but just feels it in her gut and listens. The TARDIS seems to approve, for there's that steady, singing noise in her head, and she runs a grateful hand along the walls in thanks.

Opening the door, she stands for a moment, reveling in the nostalgia. The décor, colors, and knick knacks are all the same, except a new jacket is thrown over the back of the desk chair and unfamiliar shoes are laid carefully by the foot of the bed, unlike the old way, when they were carelessly kicked off to lie in the middle of the floor. She was in here only four times, once on accident, twice to peer in like a guilty child and watch him sleep, falling harder when she saw his peaceful expression only available when he was dreaming, and once to gather him up in her arms and let him cry out the effects of a nightmare shortly after returning from the bunker. She's glad to know that she at least remembers those moments, the simple ones, even as the way he looked while walking beside her is fading.

Only, it isn't him sprawled over the bed. Not him him, at least. Now, it's the new him, the younger man with light brown hair and darker eyes-The one who is already beginning to replace her memories, even as her heart still holds on to the other.

"Doctor?" she asks, quietly.

He is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at a piece of paper, his hands trembling ever so slightly. The look on his face is heartbreaking- sad and lonely and filled with utter loss- before he straightens at the sound of her voice. His face smoothes into a neutral expression as the letter disappears into his pocket.

"Rose? Did you finish showing Mickey around?"

She hesitates, and then shakes her head slightly before cautiously coming in and closing the door. He doesn't protest, only watches her with those new eyes, the unreadable eyes, and she finds herself longing for blue.

"The TARDIS is showing him around. I . . . wanted to see if you were okay."

He doesn't react, only watches her as she paces slowly, carefully, forward before sitting softly down beside him. There's only an inch or so between them, but it might as well be three galaxies by the way they studiously stare at the floor and not meet the other's eyes. Minutes pass in this fashion, and she feels alone. Even the TARDIS, who had always been a faint, humming presence in the back of her mind, is silent. She's partly grateful, for even the ship knows when to give them privacy, but also uncertain, for she could have used the support. She's on her own, now.

"I'm fine, Rose. Not the first time this has happened."

You're lying, she thinks. His tone is just like her Doctor's. He had that same inflection, the same low voice whenever he lied, trying to protect her or trying to protect himself. Since he still refuses to meet her eyes (not that she's trying to meet his, since she can at least pretend he's a different man when she doesn't see him), she can't tell for certain, but the undercurrent of pain is noticeable. This Doctor, at least, hasn't learned how to hide his feelings from her yet. Not that her Doctor ever learned, either.

"You loved her, didn't you?"

The words surprise even her, but, she thinks, they weren't unexpected. Not really. After all, he wasn't fully capable of loving her, a human. Her life is so short compared to his. Though in her world it will be years before she finally accepts death, to him, it will feel like days, weeks if she's feeling particularly self-confident. He will linger on, while she becomes dust. He won't change, but she will get old, her blonde hair will change to grey, and simply won't have the strength and endurance to keep up. She picks at a loose thread on the comforter, by her knee. She is glad that he abruptly looks at her with wide, startled eyes. The gap between them hesitantly starts to shrink, at least on her end, but the opposing shore is still too far from view. She's heading into dangerous waters, now, for even if he does deny the words they will be stepping on eggshells around each other for days. She had to say it, though, and now a burden she hadn't been aware of is lifted from her shoulders. Straightening, she sails straight into the storm and is surrounded by brown as she looks him in the eye. He is the first to break contact.

"She died too young. I could have saved her . . . but I didn't get there in time."

Her heart melts, just a little, and she glimpses a faint shoreline before it is obscured in fog. He's avoiding the question, of course, but she ignores it. It wasn't like he was hers, after all. Not this Doctor. Hesitantly, she laid a hand on his arm, still looking at that loose thread.

"I understand. I've lost someone I've loved, too."

She's talking about her father, but another face blooms in her mind, one with big ears and blue eyes. She swallows, and forces it back. He didn't need her anymore. This Doctor does, and she will only be dishonoring his memory if she pushes away his next self. After all, this Doctor had a part of him, as well. Even if he didn't have the same eyes, the rare smiles, the same mischievous look that make his eyes sparkle just so, he's still there, somewhere, hidden under new memories and new thoughts. And as this Doctor's hand covers hers, she looks up to see that distant shoreline hesitantly coming into view once more.

"You still see him when you look at me, don't you?"

His voice is earnest, desperate, pleading, as if his entire world hangs on the answer. She shifts, uncomfortable. It will be so easy to lie, to say no, she's already moved on, that he's gone and there's nothing she can do about it. But he will know, and that will hurt. And saying that yes, she does still look for blue eyes instead of hazel, that leather will always bring back memories of him, and he simply cannot make her heart flutter the way her old Doctor's laugh did, will hurt him as well. But how can she possibly explain that? How can she express her fears of losing her Doctor, the memories, to the new Doctor sitting next to her? How?

"I do. It's just . . . hard to accept that he died. For me."

She had been willing to die for him. Why hadn't he let her die, instead? He could have done so much more good. Now, of course, she understands, since he could be reborn and she couldn't, but that didn't give him an excuse to just leave. The not-quite-stranger looking at her now seems to understand, at least, for his eyes soften. The hand covering hers tightens ever so slightly and she searches in vain for a spark of blue that does not surface. If he notices, he does not react, and gives a small smile instead. Looking at him, she begins to understand. He, too, has experienced loss, and instead of holding it against her, he accepts it. They haven't known each other long, not yet, but he's willing to wait for her to accept, to understand, to let go of the past. The look in his eyes tells her that she's worth the wait. That she had been worth everything, in his past form and this one.

"When someone's in love, consequences aren't important. Protecting them is."

His words render her speechless. The Doctor loved her? Her Doctor, the one with the sad, haunted blue eyes that had seen more horrors than someone three times his age, the quiet yet powerful rebel without a cause, the one man who had shown her things beyond her comprehension and saved her life as much as she saved his . . . in love with her? Yet, she knew it was the truth. They way his hand would linger in hers even when it was no longer necessary, his possessiveness whenever she was ever noticed, the melancholy, almost jealous air whenever she brought another, younger, boy on board. Shame streaked through her, and she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her head in this Doctor's - her current Doctor's- shoulder. Why hadn't she recognized, why hadn't she acted? They could have shared so many new wonders, created so many more memories . . . tears fell, and she cried for the first time since he left.

"I loved him. I loved him. God, I loved him . . ."

He held her, the comforted becoming the comforter and she let all her anguish, anxiety, loss, and confusion and fears fall out. She felt betrayed, and yet, as the Doctor held her, for a moment she forgot that he was dead and a new man had taken his place. For the first time since he left she was warm, safe, protected in the arms that seemed to be there whenever she needed them. This may be a new man, but he was still the Doctor- her Doctor- and he wouldn't leave her. She whispers this, and his arms tighten, and if she had looked up she would have seen an expression of wonder and joy transform his features.

"She reminded me of you, Rose-Strong, beautiful, different. Losing her made me scared of losing you."

His confession makes her heart, her entire soul, dance in delight and victory. He was still here, holding her, protecting her, just like he always had. She laughs a bit through her tears, her arms moving on their own accord to surround him. The shoreline is rapidly approaching now, and the sails are full of wind and sunshine. The water is smooth, pushing her ever closer, and finally she reaches the shore, feet planted on firm ground at long last and standing proud and strong in the sunlight.

"I won't ever leave you, no matter how much you change or how dangerous the situation. You're my Doctor."

And there is the truth of it. Her Doctor, the one with the blue eyes and bright smile, is still inside him, somewhere, and still inside her heart. They both will have a piece of him, so his memory will never die. He will linger on, and every moment she shares with her new Doctor will be shared with him. Maybe she will never forget her first real love, but this Doctor is warm and solid and alive, and still protects her with his life, just as she will protect him with hers. He holds her other half and that had been missing in her life for so long. Now, she is holding it tight, not wanting to let go, and knowing she never will.

"And you're my Rose."

He looks down at her, and for one breathless instant, their eyes are locked together, brown with hazel, love and wonder and trust shining so bright it hurt. Then his lips are on hers, hesitant, seeking permission, and she gives it. There's a chiming in her head that sounds like the TARDIS rejoicing, but for once she ignores the ship and focuses on the man in her arms. The TARDIS can wait. Right now, the Doctor is more important. His kiss is like heaven, and she doesn't realize how long she has needed this until it finally happens. So she succumbs, melting, and the singing chime grows louder. She feels fire, summer breezes, the relief of iced water on a hot day, the comfort and contentment of curling up in an armchair with a mug of hot chocolate and wearing a bathrobe. She feels the lazy sort of feeling that she gets when she wakes up late on weekends and realizes she can still sleep in, yet the thrill of adrenaline that comes when a familiar voice says, 'run'. It's the heat of the sun and coolness of the moon, coursing through her very blood and making her brain spin. She's drunk off of desire and satisfaction and the knowledge that finally, finally, she knows where they stand and where they will go. This feels right, and even if the universe simply collapsed around them, she would never notice nor care. So when the kiss ends and the feeling is still bubbling up within her, her smile is bright and his can light up the world.

"You don't know how long I've waited for that."

He laughs at that, and she laughs with him, and everything is alright again. Though there will be obstacles (she still can't ignore the history she has with Mickey, he will seek other companions when he feels she is drifting away, and they will do their best to make the other jealous before coming to a mutual, silent understanding to stop), she knows that they have taken that first step in this new relationship, and she is falling for him all over again. Head over heels, tripping over her own emotions and tumbling through time and space, breathlessly enjoying the ride and knowing he would be there to catch her at the end of it all. Their eyes still haven't left the others, and his eyes are like the galaxy, full of mystery and spinning, shimmering stars that feel like home. She can see herself reflected in that gaze, right in the middle of that galaxy of stars, and that sight changes the tumble into a free-fall.

"Rose Tyler, you took the words right out of my mouth."

He kisses her again as if to prove it, and for a moment her mind is filled with the figure of a blue-eyed Time Lord, hands in his pockets, smiling softly at her. She takes a step forward, an arm outstretched, and sees the acceptance in his eyes. The arm falls, and she relaxes, bidding farewell with her eyes. He turns, pacing into a light, but not before he turns and gives her one last, lingering look. Then he turns, disappears, and the light vanishes, revealing a man in a brown suit with untidy brown hair, arms open in welcome. She doesn't hesitate and runs into the embrace. Their senses mingle, and for a moment, one blissful, enchanted moment, their thoughts are one.

I love you.

The words don't need to be said; they are felt, breathed, known, and carried within them. They are visible in his eyes and hers, whispering out between the silent air between them, lingering on touches that have long ended. She is his Rose and he is her Doctor, and it's perfect. Though she would one day wither and fade, he was a Time Lord, and Time was always at his disposal. He would remember her, and with him, Time could stand still. They could visit their pasts, their futures, and their presents as many times as they wished. Hazel eyes would look upon her with nothing but love and brown would look upon his the same. The Universe could throw the biggest, baddest aliens it could find, and so long as they were together, they would be unbeatable. She sighs, closing her eyes, and leans into his embrace.

Her Doctor. His Rose. That was how it should be, forever.

A/N: This was written directly after TGiF. I was scared to go on because I felt it would ruin the pure emotions I felt in that episode, and thus, I set myself up for a rabid plot bunny attack. This is the result of a day's worth of furious typing.

There will also be a companion to this piece, called Clarity, in the Doctor's POV. Keep an eye out!