*Author's Note: Welp, this is it. Thanks to everyone who read this and especially to those who encouraged me along the way! And of course a massive thank you to spook — not sure how she put up with me for the past four months, but I'm eternally grateful. :) *

Rose dreamed that she was back on the TARDIS.

She could hear the ship hum as they bobbed about in deep space, the lights slowly coming up in her cozy bedroom to alert her that it was a brand new day. The Doctor's chest was warm under her cheek, his arm slack around her shoulder as she shifted to rest her knee across his hip, cold toes poking the inside of his thigh.

Her mind protested as she drifted up from sleep, clinging to the fabrication that once was her reality. She kept her eyes clamped shut once she was fully conscious, waiting for the pillow beneath her cheek to stop rising and falling with each breath, the mattress under her knee to turn from muscle to springs and foam like they had done so many times before.

Except this time, they didn't. This time, the Doctor stayed flesh. The figment became reality.

Rose's sigh of relief grew into a quiet whimper of thankfulness as the events of the past week bombarded her mind. She had found him again. He had taken her back to Pete's world. He had left; he had stayed.

She opened her eyes to look at him, surprised to find him still deep in sleep, light stubble scattered across his jaw. He looked younger like this, his features relaxed and smooth. Though he was younger, she supposed — brand new, in fact. Born of one universe before defecting to another, all to be with her.

Rose brushed her lips against the swath of skin where his stubble faded into his neck as she realized another very important fact.

She had loved him his whole life.

The sunlight in the room began to falter, retreating to leave the two lovers in peace. It wasn't long after that Rose heard the faint pitter-patter of thick raindrops against the windowpane.

Before, when it rained, she swore the knuckles on her right hand ached; the ones she beat against that white wall until her skin grew raw.

But today the pain didn't come and Rose had a feeling she would never feel it again; that it was washed away the same day that his hand twined with hers, forever bound together by wind and sand and brine.

Rose tightened her arms around the Doctor, wondering if he needed to sleep off this regeneration like he had the last. There was so much she needed to talk to him about, so much they hadn't had the strength to delve into while they flew back to England from Norway last night. But all that would have to wait — she wouldn't wake him for the world.

(Unless another Earth-threatening alien invasion arose, of course. Thank heavens it wasn't Christmas.)

Closing her eyes, Rose decided to take a moment and do something she'd never allowed herself since stepping foot in Pete's world — reflect on what had been. She was so focused on moving forward, on getting back to the Doctor, that she hadn't allowed herself to spare a moment for retrospection.

But now she realized in order to move forward, to pick up the scraps she and this new part-human Doctor were handed and fashion them into a life, she had to have a handle on what had transpired.

It's the space in between that damn white wall and their second visit to Dårlig Ulv Stranden that she didn't like to think about — that time when she doubted the Doctor's promise that she would be happy. That time when she cried herself to sleep most nights, staring out her bedroom window pleading with the stars, wondering if the Doctor had gone back to her yet.

Hoping that he, at least, had found some resolution in their nebula of heartache.

It wasn't until after she found her way back to him, after they stopped the stars from going out, that she realized he hadn't discovered the slip of paper nestled in a book hidden in a room tucked away; when she squeezed his hand and asked him if he still remembered what she told him, receiving a confused expression in return.

But how could it be that he hadn't gone back to her yet, she'd wondered. Back on the junkyard planet he had told her they weren't together, but now she had returned, her hand in his once more. Shouldn't his visit have taken place in the space between?

She felt naive later, when the Doctor revealed his plans to take them back to Pete's world, to leave her behind with the half-human version of himself.

No wonder he had tears in his eyes when he stepped aboard the TARDIS, as she spilled her nail varnish on the floor; he knew for certain it was the last time he would ever lay eyes on her again.

It wasn't long, however, before frustration boiled in her veins, rising above the empathy she felt for the man who had already lost her once; who she had fought so hard to return to. And here he was, sending her back to the universe she'd just escaped without as much as a consultation.

Then, on the beach, he couldn't even say the words.

It was only when she heard his trainers trudging back toward the TARDIS through the sand that she tore herself away from the other Doctor's lips, that she used her Torchwood training to push into his mind through the link she already had; the one he'd not yet created.

Rose slipped the image of the Storage Room into his consciousness like she slipped the paper between the pages of the book. She thought she saw him pause in his stride for an instant before continuing on, but she couldn't be sure. He never looked back.

The Doctor — the one who stayed — turned over in his sleep to face Rose, throwing his arm across her body, nudging his left knee between both of hers. Rose shifted to accommodate this new position and nuzzled her nose against his neck, marveling at how his familiar scent had remained despite each molecule in his body being more-or-less brand new.

It wasn't long before sleep draped itself over her again and she welcomed it, needed it after years of restless nights, months of universe hopping, and minutes of having to say goodbye for the umpteenth time.

Rose smiled against the Doctor's skin as she drifted into the bliss of unconsciousness, thinking that, in many ways, she had regenerated, too.

The sun had long since set by the time the Doctor finally woke, Rose's arm snug across his waist, her chest flush against his back. She smiled at him sleepily as he rolled over to face her, her stomach tilting as she realized she hadn't seen his eyes this closely for years.

"Hello," he whispered, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Hello," she replied, feeling her universe click back into place for the first time since Canary Wharf.

They both paused then, their minds stuttering as they tried to find where to begin. The words had come easier last night on the flight home, the Doctor summarizing his travels since her fingers slipped, Rose skimming over the basics of the life she'd built from scratch in the universe that's an echo of their own.

But now that forever was stretched out before them, it was hard to find the end of the spool of thread; unsure of which bit to tug on to make the years between them unravel.

To stall for time, something they once had so precious little of, Rose suggested they shower, giggling as she brushed a few grains of sand from his hair. The Doctor went first while Rose changed the sheets, humming to herself as her barefeet padded across the carpet to the linen closet down the hall.

At Jackie's insistence they'd returned to the Tyler manor last night, the Doctor and Rose occupying her old bedroom in the quiet east wing of the house. Rose would rather have gone somewhere more private with the Doctor but they'd had few other options, seeing as how she'd sold her Hammersmith flat before she began dimension hopping — once she found the Doctor, she'd never intended on coming back.

When the Doctor was finished showering he emerged bright and fresh and dressed again in a white undershirt and Pete's spare pajama bottoms, the hem of the trousers falling a few inches above his ankles.

Rose went next, frantically shampooing her hair and scrubbing the salt and sand from her skin with a loofa, suddenly desperate to get back to him. She stood under the steady stream of water, forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths, reminding herself that this time he truly was only a wall away.

To match him she put her sleep clothes back on too — purple shorts with white polka dots and an old music festival tee. When she stepped out of the bathroom, welcoming the cooler blast of air as she combed her fingers through her damp hair, she nearly smacked right into the Doctor, who was standing just outside the door.

"Sorry, I-" he started, arms pulling her to him as Rose heard him swallow. "I can't believe you're here. Or that I'm here, rather. That we're both here, in the same place at the same time. Together."

"I know," she breathed, closing her eyes as she pressed her cheek against his chest, arms squeezing his lower back. "Part of me thought I'd never find you again. And now, well… I did and I didn't."

"You did," he said assuringly, pressing his lips to her crown.

"But he's still out there."

"You still found him, Rose, and you risked so much. That means everything to him. To me."

"At least he finds me again," she reminded herself, stilling as she felt the Doctor's arm tense around her. He took a step back, hands resting on her shoulders, and though his eyebrows were furrowed quizzically she could tell he was hurt.

"No, not this me," she rushed to clarify, running her hands up and down his arms. "Let's sit, I have something to tell you."

They settled at the foot of the bed, Rose turned toward the Doctor with one leg on the mattress, her bare toes pushing against the plaid fabric on his thigh.

"Do you remember when we landed on that junkyard planet? When you went out searching for that fan belt-"

"The sub-atomic fan belt for the molecular facilitator, yes."

"Right, that. And when you got back with the part you were upset because-"

"You had been crying," he interjected quietly, hand rising to cup her cheek. "You insisted you were fine, but… what happened, Rose?"

"You came back," Rose said, taking a steady breath. "After you left, when I was about to paint my nails, I was thinking about the future and how I wanted to leave you some kind of message for after I was gone. I hated the thought of you all alone…"

She paused to turn her face and kiss the palm of his hand, smiling as she remembered she'd done the same thing as she sat on the console chair that day, the Doctor looking down at her in awe as his eyes filled with tears.

"So at first I thought maybe I could write you a message and hide it in the Storage Room, a reminder about how much I loved you. But then, I had an idea, I could do one better — write down the date and location that we landed on that planet, so you could see me one last time. And the second I thought it, Doctor, the TARDIS door opened and there you were."

The Doctor stared at her in amazement as he processed what she'd said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Rose Tyler, you are brilliant," he exclaimed, smacking his lips against her hair. "But I hadn't gone into the Storage Room at all since… couldn't bring myself to."

"I know — yesterday I said something referencing that time we had together, and I could tell it didn't register with him. So I gave him a hint about where to look. I think it worked. I mean, I still remember it."

The Doctor clasped both of her hands in his own, thumbs brushing over her knuckles. Rose couldn't help but notice the way her skin still sang under his touch after all this time.

"That's why you seemed less anxious after that — all those things you said that night in 2012. He told you that you weren't going to die."

"He told me I was happy," she laughed, shaking her head. "And I spent the past few years thinking he was a complete wanker for lying to me. But it kept me going, too, fueled that drive in me to find you again. And now, well. It all makes sense."

Rose's eyes fluttered closed as the Doctor leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. Her fingers tightened around his hands as she focused on his breath hitting her cheek, now warmer than it once was.

"Are you happy, Rose?"

She answered with her lips, sliding them softly over his, again and again, gentle little caresses that were ends in and of themselves. The Doctor sighed against her mouth, his hands threaded through her still-damp hair. After a moment, when he broke away to trail his lips across her cheekbone, Rose noticed he was panting as much as she was.

"No respiratory bypass then?" she quirked, leaning into his touch.

"It's worth the trade-off," he chuckled, kissing her lips one more time before pulling back to look at her, eyes shining. "What else did he tell you? Why were you so upset?"

"Well, it wasn't so much what he told me, as what he showed me," she said, eyes stinging at the memory she had clung to for all these years. "Want to see?" She took his hands and moved them toward her temple.

The Doctor shook his head sadly.

"I don't think I can," he said. "I did a quick run-through of my systems while you were in the shower and I think the ability to create a mental link was lost. Gone the way of the respiratory bypass," he laughed, trying to make light of the situation though Rose could tell he was hurting. "Can you tell me what he showed you? Did he fly the TARDIS somewhere or-"

Rose cut him off with a quiet giggle, pressing the tips of his fingers to her mouth.

"No, he didn't fly the TARDIS somewhere," she smiled, dropping his hands so she could place her index and middle fingers against his forehead. "And the link was already created."

Closing her eyes and focusing, as she was trained to do at Torchwood, Rose slowly entered the Doctor's mind. She smiled as she felt his consciousness do the brain's equivalent of gasping before mentally embracing her, filling her with an overwhelming sense of joy.

Rose lead the way for him to follow the pathways to her mind, guiding them to her memories of the day the Doctor would truly see her for the last time. She felt her half-human Doctor sifting through those recollections, lingering on the moment the bond was created, the first instance in her timeline that she told him she loved him.

When he flipped to the memory of their kiss in the TARDIS library, Rose fet the Doctor's lips on her again, hungrier and needier than they were before. He rolled her onto her back, feet still dangling off the mattress, and covered her body with his own, grinding his growing erection against the inside of her thigh.

Rose gasped and locked her ankles around his back, hands scrambling to push the Doctor's t-shirt up his chest, exposing more hot skin to her feverish hands. The Doctor broke their kiss as he allowed her to pull the shirt off his head, but was able to remain in her mind, reliving the moment when Rose straddled the other Doctor on the sofa.

Taking the opportunity to pull Rose's shirt off too, his mouth descended to her left breast, tracing her nipple with his tongue and lightly sucking it into a hard peak. Rose gasped as she combed her fingers through his hair, arching into his mouth while simultaneously trying to pull him away, overcome with the need to feel him inside her.

The Doctor must have experienced her sense of urgency, too, because he yanked off her shorts and knickers as his mouth moved to her other breast, groaning as Rose's nails raked jagged lines across his shoulders.

He slid two fingers into her, mentally admiring how wet she was for him as she clenched around him, angling her hips for more. She bucked against his hand while also silently pleading with him to bury himself inside her, warning that she was already close.

With her last bit of coherence, Rose showed him the moment in the library when she sunk down on the other Doctor, resting her forehead against his as his hands desperately mapped every inch of her skin.

The Doctor groaned and withdrew his fingers, Rose whining at the loss of his hands and mouth as he moved to shuck his trousers. But an instant later he was there — between her thighs and in her mind — nudging against her entrance.

"Please," Rose whimpered, remembering how hard he had tried to prise that word from her before, when they'd made love on top of a dozen silk ties.

She gasped as the Doctor abruptly withdrew from her mind, kissing her gently before leaning back to meet her eyes.

"I love you," he said simply, face flushed and disheveled and hopeful.

"I love you," she replied, eyes beginning to sting again as she traced the freckles on the bridge his nose. "I've always loved you. Always will."

The Doctor kissed Rose deeply as he pushed into her at the same time that he re-entered her mind, his groan and her cry mingling as they echoed through the room. It was like they were back on the TARDIS then, the Doctor thrusting into Rose on the sofa as he expressed his love with his body and mind, sprinting toward ecstasy in a corner of the library beneath a canopy of vines.

Rose smoothed her hands soothingly over the Doctor's back as she felt him fight his release, reminding him that for the first time since they met, time was at their mercy; they'd never had so little, yet so much of it.

As her orgasm overtook her, starting at the tips of her fingers and the ends of her hair before imploding, shooting through her nerves, Rose murmured the Doctor's name over and over; clutching him to her as if any moment he might vanish, the other universe taking what's hers.

In a few more short thrusts the Doctor came too, moaning his release against Rose's swollen lips, his hips bucking furiously before slowly coming to a stop.

"Wow, that was…" he started, collapsing next to her. "I think we may have found the one area where a human's senses are more heightened than a Time Lord's."

Rose opened her mouth in an expression of mock surprise at that statement and the Doctor tickled her, making her squeal and squirm. She nestled bonelessly into his side, feeling happy and sated as she felt the familiar warm trickle run down her thigh.

"Can't believe I'm sleepy again," Rose yawned, as the first light of dawn began to seep in through the window, casting long shadows throughout the room. "And we're still at the foot of the bed. Are you cold? Do you want to get under the covers?"

"No," the Doctor smiled, curling his arm around her side. "We're perfect just where we are."

After another few hours of sleep, one more (shared) shower, two new pairs of pajamas, and two stomachs full of eggs and toast later, the Doctor and Rose retreated back to her bedroom, away from the sly smiles Jackie kept throwing their way.

They were meant to get dressed before going to fill out some forms with Pete at Torchwood and taking the Doctor shopping for more clothes, but as Rose moved to open a drawer on her dresser the Doctor stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist.

"I have something to show you too."

Rose stood there dumbly as she watched him riffle through the transdimensional pocket of his blue suit, nervousness and anticipation simultaneously prickling her skin. The Doctor was elbow deep in the pocket, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration, before he finally found what he was looking for and turned to Rose, extending the object to her.

It was a blue book with gold lettering and the illustration of a little blonde girl on the front. A tear rolled down Rose's cheek as she opened the book and found what she was expecting on the inside cover — Rose Tyler, age 8 spelled out in shaky cursive.

She hugged the Doctor tightly with one arm, the hand clutching the book caught between them.

"How?" she sniffed.

"I went back to your flat — well, he did — after…" He smoothed her hair, still unable to complete that sentence even after everything. "Couldn't bring myself to go back to your room on the TARDIS and I wanted something of yours, something that you loved. Thought you'd want me to have it."

Rose stifled a sob against his shirt, imagining how forlorn he must have been, how she wished she could have comforted him.

"And he — the other Doctor — he took me aside before he brought us back here," the Doctor continued, holding her close. "Said it belonged with you."

"It was never published here," she said shakily. "I looked…"

"Well, it's all the more precious, then," he smiled. "We can start it over again. Or pick up where we left it — we were on page 37."

They stood in the middle of the room for a long while, holding each other until the tears dried from Rose's cheeks, until her breathing evened out.

"Will he be alright?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.

"He's always alright."

"But he's all alone."

"No," the Doctor said firmly, and Rose could feel his head shake emphatically. "No, Rose. He was alone before he found you. You may not be with him anymore, but he'll never be alone. He'll always have you."

Rose stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, caressing his tongue with hers until the book between them shifted, one corner pressing uncomfortably into her ribcage.

"And so will you," she smiled up at him. "I'm never gonna let you go."

Somewhere, a universe and several galaxies away, the Doctor piloted the TARDIS into the vortex, dusting the remnants of smog off the shoulder of his suit. Then, taking a steady breath, he overrode the TARDIS' default commands and moved Rose's room out of storage.

He smiled as he walked down the familiar hallways to her bedroom, once again where it belonged. Briefly closing his eyes, he traced his finger over the delicate red rose on the wood, the one he had painted when she came aboard for the very first time.

Then he turned the knob and walked into the room, allowing himself to be surrounded by his Rose once more. He let the memories flood his mind as he walked a slow lap, the coins on her dresser reminding him of the best sunrise he had never seen, the photograph on her mirror bringing him back sweet whispered words in a dark London park.

When he reached the nightstand he sat down on her bed, picking up the book he'd bought her on an asteroid long ago. He smiled again, thumbing through the sheets of paper her fingers had once touched, flipping to the page where they had left off.