Measures of Time
by Camilla Sandman
Characters of Doctor Who are from the loving bosom of the BBC. I wouldn't dare get in the way of such a relationship.
Author's Note: You might call this an AU Bad Wolf scenario. Spoilers up to "Boom Town" and does deal with some of the storylines of "Bad Wolf"/"Parting of the Ways".
Rating: Mature.
II
Part One
II
a life
II
Sometimes, in the sentience that is the TARDIS, she thinks about time. There are no words to capture it, but sometimes she borrows the human term of ocean; an ocean she drifts on and tries to keep him from drowning in. She is his ship, but even he doesn't fully understand or know her. There's no one left who do now and she mourns Gallifrey too.
There's time, she thinks, and there are those who live in it. Live in it and try to make it theirs with whatever technology they have. Clocks, hourglasses, words, crystals, metal, light, darkness, computers, ships... One more device for the telling of time, making it seem manageable in pieces. Seconds, hours, days, years, lifetimes, centuries, millennia, ages, eternities, all the little measures of time.
She doesn't need them.
She is them all.
II
thirteen seconds
II
He can feel the moment they hit and the TARDIS screams, or perhaps it's him, feeling time ripping into them. They've collided. They've collided and time is yanking at them and they're all going to fall, him and Rose and Jack.
And he can only reach one of them, fall with one of them.
In the seconds of decision, there's an eternity. Rose, oh Rose, beautiful and human and hand that fits in his like no other. Jack, oh Jack, flirts and breaths and life, jokes to keep the darkness away.
He hopes Jack will forgive him one day.
He lets go of the TARDIS console and reaches for her, feeling her hand still fit in his, an anchor of skin to keep even a Time Lord from going adrift.
"Not letting you go, Rose Tyler," he says, and they fall into time.
II
a rainstorm
II
He awakes to pain. Not an unfamiliar sensation, but not one he has ever grown too fond of. There's something like a firestorm in his head, a hundred burning sensations from his body colliding. He breathes and lets them slowly sort themselves out.
His leg is slightly twisted and he corrects it, feeling the bone groan, but obey. Not broken then. Skin is on fire along his arm, he can feel blood as he touches it. His back aches as if he's carried the world and his flesh is aching all over. But he still feels himself and the ears feel the same too.
He lets out another breath and opens his eyes.
It's bloody Earth, is his first realisation. It's bloody Earth again. Second realisation, they fell. Third realisation, it's raining. Fourth realisation, Rose is lying on the ground a few feet away, arm still stretched towards him, eyes closed.
The brain almost howls with pain when he gets up on his knees, but he manages to crawl over without cursing too much. He'll pay for this in bruises and aches later. Doesn't matter. He's paid far worse before.
She doesn't stir when he touches her, but he can feel her pulse and hear her breath and the sonic screwdriver he manages to dig out of his pocket does confirm she's alive. He lets his hands do a far more intimate exploration of her body than he's dared before, and nothing seems broken. She's bleeding from several cuts and seems to have a burn on her hand, neither of which he's sure of the source of, but they're not in any way fatal.
"Oh, Rose," he mutters and sinks down on the ground again, just for a moment, letting his forehead rest against hers. They're alive. They're both alive. He can take a moment to enjoy that before taking on everything else. Just a moment of Rose and him, her skin so soft under his fingers.
"Right," he says and lets out a long breath. This is Earth, but when, he's not quite sure. Still, there has to be something here to heal Rose (and himself, he adds as an afterthought), and something with power he can use to bring the TARDIS to him. Provided whatever they collided with in time didn't rip the TARDIS apart.
He doesn't want to think about that, so he doesn't.
What they did collide with, however, he does consider. None of the alternatives cheer him particularly up and most of them point to some kind of save the world situation again. If it was a collision at all, that is. And after that's been sorted he has to find Jack, which could very well be something like finding a particular grain of sand in a sandstorm and he's done that before. It makes for burning eyes and raw skin. He'll definitely want tea afterwards. Probably a few biscuits too.
Or he'll fail and everything will be a bit of a muck-up. Always a possibility, even with him. But he stores that with everything else he doesn't want to think about - the war, losing the TARDIS, falling face down in the mud and looking like an idiot, Rose eventually leaving or dying from him - and fights himself back on his feet.
His back is protesting to the point of strike as he gathers Rose in his arms, cradling her head carefully. The ground feels muddy underneath, and he has to walk carefully not to slip. It's a muddy landscape in the rain, a few hills rising in the distance, no trees and so sign of people.
It better not be near Cardiff again, he thinks. It better not be.
There are faints traces of burn as he walks, a trunk crumbled in ash, a blackened rock, tufts of grass still not grown back. And as he gets higher, he realises the hills are not so much hills as the ground level. It's a crater. Something has fallen from the sky and burned here, the traces still visible. Something falling out of time, as he and Rose did. And he remembers the sound of the TARDIS just before time ripped in. Or was let in.
Fifth realisation - oh, bollocks.
"We didn't collide," he says to the rain and the rain drums in agreement. "We rammed something."
Sixth realisation, Rose is stirring.
"Hey," he beams at her, watching her eyes focus on him.
"What happened?"
"Took a bit of a tumble," he says cheerfully. "You all right to stand? Much as you might enjoying travelling by Doctor, you are a bit heavy."
"Yeah," she mutters, obviously too exhausted to bother giving him a lecture on never calling anyone of her gender "heavy". She sways a bit when he puts her down on her feet, and he keeps a firm arm around her waist. "What did we ram?"
"Ah. Caught that, did you?"
She gives him a "duh" look. "I'm not deaf. Where's Jack?"
He doesn't even have time to form an answer before she reads his face and he can see the pain across her face as clear as day too.
"I'm sorry," he offers, pushing a soaked strand of hair out of her face. "I couldn't let myself drop into fatal danger with both of you, much as I would clearly want to."
"Why'd you pick me?"
There's a quite a few logical answers he can give. He made a promise to her mother, even unspoken. She has the TARDIS key and without the TARDIS, he'd never find any of them. Jack's a Time Agent, trained to manage getting lost in time. Jack's more experienced. Jack would have done much of the same.
Only problem is, the decision wasn't made on logic at all.
"I would always choose you," he says, the painfully stupid ape thing to say, the sort of thing he'd say if he was starring with her in a book that had "Desires" in the title and him half-naked on a moor and ravishing her on the cover.
Sometimes the stupid thing is the true thing.
She closes her eyes. One second pass, another drag on, a third seems to swallow an eternity on its way.
"Is it okay if I hate you a little bit for that?" she asks finally, eyes remaining closed, drops of rain clinging to her lashes.
"Yeah. I do too."
She opens her eyes and smiles faintly. "For the rest of it, I'm quite fond of you."
"Yeah," he says again, taking her hand as they walk on, "me too."
II
a train of thought
II
He thinks.
If the TARDIS rammed something else, something falling through time, bringing them here, to where something has fallen from the sky not too long ago, that doesn't feel like an accident at all.
If they've fallen close in time to whatever they hit, maybe Jack hasn't fallen too far from them and maybe he won't have to lose another companion and maybe Rose won't have to grieve and he can watch her smile.
If Rose smiles, he can pretend to forget everything else and smile back.
If he forgets everything else, he'll never be able not to kiss her.
If she kisses him back...
If...
It's best not to think, he thinks.
II
a fall
II
She falls, she thinks.
She falls like a rock in a waterfall, a rock in a sea, but it doesn't matter. The rock crushed. The rock broke the fall of the planet-burners, brought it down where he might hurt it, where he might end the time war, where the bad wolf waits and the world howls. Rock in time, falling, until time shakes with his call.
He's calling her.
The fall becomes flight.
She is coming.
II
an interlude
II
The rain has ended by the time they've found shelter; an emptied cottage, dust clinging to every surface and a fence half burned down. Rose takes the house, he picks apart the shed and finds just what he's looking for.
"It's got a generator. I've hooked it up, started calling the TARDIS to me. Seems to be responding, but I don't what shape it's in," he calls in through an open window, watching the faint outlines of the TARDIS shimmer and fade, shimmer and fade. Whatever state it's in, it is at least still working and he feels a moment of comfort. His TARDIS, the only echo left of everything he came from.
He feels Rose's eyes on him even before he turns. She's leaning against the door, clothes changed to extremely colourful pants and a blouse dotted with flowers that she must've found within. At least that settles they're near the 20th century. Any other age and that is banned as a crime against fashion, eyesight and humanity.
"Flower girl," he says brightly and she gives him a tired smile.
"This was the least glittery," she informs him, sounding amused. "I found some pants I'd die to see you in."
"No."
"Your clothes got wet too."
"I dry faster. Wonderful alien special ability."
She considers that for a moment, then shakes her head at him. "Liar, liar, wet pants on fire."
He refuses to take the bait, merely folds his arms. "Anything else of use inside?"
"Not much. Some tinned food, a lot of mould, layers of dust, some books, some clothes... No trace of people. See for yourself."
He follows her in, resisting the impulse to cough in the stuffed air. It smells abandoned and dusty, electricity dead until he flickers the sonic screwdriver across. In the pale light that comes on, the place looks even more desolate.
If Jack has been here, he's left no sign of it.
"Jack is out there somewhere," he says, seeing her face. "We'll find him. No problem."
"Yeah," Rose agrees, echoing his lie, even knowing it for a lie. He's not sure if she's doing it to comfort him or herself. Perhaps both.
She sinks down on the couch, and he can almost feel the last energy flow out of her, like blood from a wound. She just looks at him as he comes to sit next to her, and says nothing as he takes her arm and looks at her cuts. She's washed away the blood with something, but the skin is angry red.
"Gonna play Doctor?" she asks softly after a moment, her voice mingling with the distant hum of the coming TARDIS, "ask me to remove all my clothes?"
"Bad idea."
"Why?"
He looks at her, her eyes so bright and young. So much innocence. A mountain of innocence and he with a chisel, chipping away. There are times he is tempted to take her everywhere, show her everything, Gallifrey's burn and a million planets like it until she knew all he had seen and all he'd done and if she still stayed, if she smiled at him then, he'd know she truly did love him.
But he won't do that to her. He loves her too much.
"Just is, Rose."
"If it's the ears, I don't mind."
He shakes his head even as he smiles. "There's nothing wrong with my ears. They give me character."
"Your cup runneth over with character," she replies, closing her eyes as he runs fingers across her skin, soothing the pains he can. She seems to breathe almost in sync with his strokes, a strange little rhythm in the silence. He almost lost this too, his fingers on her skin.
It's a bad idea, he reminds himself. He's over 900 years old and he never knows what face or personality he might have next week. She doesn't know him, can't know him with the abyss of experience stretched out between them. And still sometimes it feels like she does.
"Rose?"
"Mmmm?"
"If I played Doctor, would you play nurse?"
"No," she says, letting him have a heartbeat of disappointment, of relief, of something. "I'd be the young talented assisting surgeon."
"Ah."
Her breathing evens and he watches her sleep, just for a moment, innocence in her face like a sun warming him. Then he presses a kiss to her forehead and walks out, knowing she's going to rip him a new one for going wandering off without her.
Still, sometimes a 900-year-old Time Lord's gotta do what a 900-year-old Time Lord's gotta do.
He has to stop watching stupid ape programs, he thinks.
II
a swanning off
II
It's overcast and the smell after rain lingers in the wind as he sets out, leaving the comforting hum of the TARDIS coming and Rose's sleeping breath behind. It's darkening and the day must be drawing to a close, and it's a good thing he has the lovely pain of his body to keep him warm. The mud still clings to his feet, but after a while, trees begin to appear again and he finds tracks from jeeps. Not too deserted, then, and he follows one track until he can see buildings lit up in the fading daylight, fenced in with barbed wire.
There's only one kind of structure he knows always rather looks like that on Earth, and that's a military structure. Good place to take the TARDIS inside and poke about, should it work well enough. Probably even some useful gadgets to power her up some, if needed.
As the lights switch on, he can see the name above the gate and feels the wind how right through him.
Bad Wolf.
This isn't an accident at all.
"Fantastic," he says, and he isn't even sure himself if it's sarcasm or not.
II
a swanning back
II
"You're such a jerk!"
Rose is raging at him, and he can't really defend himself, even if he's right and she's wrong since she'll find some holes in his logic and he'll start to think he wasn't right after all. He hates that.
"I was only gone for a little bit," he points out when the worst of the storm seems to have passed. "Just an hour or so."
"It feels like a lot longer when you wake up stuck behind," she counters. "You didn't even leave a note. Not even a 'Dear Rose, have swanned off to be a hero again. Should be back for tea. Love, the Doctor'."
"Dear Rose, have swanned back. Where's the tea? Love, the Doctor," he replies and for a moment, she glares at him, then she seems to give up and just shakes her head at him, a faint smile clinging to her lips.
He beams, and before she might be tempted to give him another round, he heads for the shed and the hum of the TARDIS coming. Only she isn't humming, she's there, solid and blue.
"Oh, look at you," he says, reaching out to feel her under his hands. Still a piece of Gallifrey. Without her, he wouldn't be a Time Lord at all, just another last survivor, waiting to die.
"The TARDIS came back about ten minutes ago," Rose says behind him and he notes the affection in her voice too. "The inside... Doesn't look too good."
II
a little eternity
II
She hurts.
Time knows all the pain of every eternity passed and she's always held all of it, but now it seems to leech into her, just as it has just once before. Another wound of the time war, another fall, just as when Gallifrey burned and she became the last of her kind in the Universe. Just as he did. She alone but for him, and he alone but for Rose.
He repaired her then. He'll repair her now.
She saved him then. She'll save him now, save them both.
She loves.
II
thirty seconds
II
Doesn't look good is an understatement, he thinks. It looks as if a storm has passed through the TARDIS, but the console still glints at him and she does flicker to life. Not fatal, then. He's repaired her before, he can repair her again.
"Think it's in any shape to travel?" Rose asks, trying to snap two bits back together. He doesn't bother telling her they don't originally go together. Maybe she'll improve it with this new design. TARDIS, by Rose, now modelling in all the cities in all the galaxies in all of time.
"Let's find out," he says brightly and the TARDIS powers up, powers up... And flies.
Rose laughs and he gathers her up in a great big hug, swinging her around as the TARDIS seems to do the same, three out of four together again. He can be happy for that. He can allow himself one moment of that.
And when he realises Rose is kissing him, he doesn't even remember why it's a bad idea.
II
a kiss
II
The TARDIS flies...
... and he kisses Rose back, her lips warm, yielding to his one moment, teasing and tugging at his bottom lip the next, tasting of human and summer and Rose, her nose rubbing against his, her hands ruffling his hair, a low moan in the back of her throat as he deepens the kiss, exploring the feel of her, listening to the sound of her breath mingling with his, with the hum of the TARDIS, together the most beautiful sound in the Universe...
.... and the TARDIS lands.
II
a break-in
II
Rose's hand is warm in his as they walk out into a an empty hallway the TARDIS has taken them too, warning signs promising quite a lot of nasty accidents to anyone who shouldn't be there. Just his kind of place. He half expects a company of soldiers to come upon them at once, but the place seems quiet and empty.
There's not even an alarm going off when he finds a closed door and turns the knob. It only creaks a little and opens.
"Lax security," Rose remarks. "If this was the planet of Yarak, we'd be in chains already."
"That was a good look for you," he replies, switching on the light. It's an office, papers scattered about, a desk and a file cabinet tumbled over. Signs of a fight, or just someone very, very fond of making a mess. Bit like him, perhaps.
He picks up a few papers, reading quickly as Rose pries open the file cabinet. "This explains your fashion sense. We're somewhere in the 1960s."
"At least I'm dressed for the decade, unlike you."
"We're in the UK," he goes on, ignoring her reply, "I recognise these seals. I..."
He pauses, feeling his mind catch up to the words he's reading. No. No, no, no. Quickly, he gathers a few more documents, finding a drawings and pictures inbetween, all confiming what he wants denied.
It can't be. It shouldn't be. It mustn't be. Yet it is.
"Doctor?"
He breathes, just breathes, the words settling into him, the realisation settling into him, a whole galaxy of pain expanding in his mind.
"Doctor, what is it?"
"My TARDIS rammed it and it fell from the sky, out of time," he says, staring at the papers. "They thought it a weapon of the Russians. They brought the ship here and found what was within. The Emperor of the Daleks."
Somewhere inside him, a planet is screaming in vain and he's screaming with, a howl against time.
"Oh, Rose," he says, lifting his gaze to her face, wanting to sink into her embrace, hold her until memory runs out and there is no death and no time at all. "He was still alive."
Part Two
II
an echo of time
II
There is something he said to her, just before the burn, in another voice and another skin, but still him, always him. There is something he said to her that she remembers in words, not just in sensations.
"Whatever it takes," he said and time shook with his storm.
And the planet had burned, everything had burned and he had meant to burn with it, but she hadn't let him.
"Whatever it takes," he had said and she understood.
He isn't the only one who can make a choice.
II
five minutes
II
He's leaning against the TARDIS when Rose catches up to him, her face drained and worried eyes seeking his. She's worried for him, he realises, burn the rest of the world. And why it's such a bad, bad idea is that he feels much the same. And he can burn the world.
He's always been good at implementing bad ideas, he thinks.
"Hey," he says, trying to summon a smile. She mirrors his stand, leaning her back against the TARDIS, giving him a sideways look.
"So the Emperor of the Daleks is still alive?"
"Yep."
"They were keeping him prisoner here, like the Dalek Van Statten had?"
Something in him flinches slightly at the memory. He killed her then, to stop the Dalek. Now he has to stop another Dalek. He hopes he doesn't have to kill her again. He's not even sure he can.
"They were, probably. I don't think they are anymore," he says, feeling the quiet as the silence of a grave. No soldiers. "It's no soldier waiting for orders they've captured. This facility goes deep underground. I think he's down there somewhere, rebuilding his ship, looking for a way to bring his race back."
"So we stop him," she suggests, trying a smile that seems more a grimace.
"Yeah," he agrees, feeling a million déjà vu march in his mind. Sometimes, time is a circle and he always crashes back to this point. 900 years is no age and still he feels ancient, old as Gallifrey, as if its burn has brought the ashes of it into him.
The TARDIS is warm against his back, humming in his mind, a tiny lifeline of comfort in an ocean of grief. So much lost, but she's still there.
"You think Jack's down there too?" Rose asks, a voice of loss too.
"I hope not," he replies, not adding the rest. If Jack was down there, he'd be dead now, probably during some heroic attempt. Jack doesn't perhaps know it, but for all the flirts and smiles and charm, he's got heroism underneath, shining through.
"We'll have to save him, if he is," Rose says and he tilts his head to look at her. "I'm thinking - Save the world, save Jack, repair your ship and get me a change of clothes, all in time for tea."
He was always good at finding the heroic ones. He still is.
"Good plan," he says and takes her hand. "Let's do that."
II
a message from the past
II
The noise grows as they go deeper down and he knows it for what it is. Something being powered up. A ship, a ship he knows all too well, gaining strength. But it splutters and dies, then powers up again, and he takes a dark delight in knowing he isn't the only one with a battered ship.
His TARDIS isn't just a pretty box. His TARDIS is his ship, the greatest ship of all and it can still push back.
They peek carefully into every room as they pass, most showing signs of disorder, though not outright violence.
Down five floors, they find the first dead body, and Rose leans her face against his chest for a moment, looking distraught. By the time they find the fifth, she just looks grim. None of them are Jack, and he feels just a twinge of guilt over the relief at that. Maybe Jack hasn't be there at all.
Or so he thinks until Rose makes a strangled kind of noise and her hand feels like a claw around his.
Ahead is a guard's post, instruments flickering, and in the window to the hallway, Jack's wristband.
"No," Rose mutters, shaking her head. "Tell me it isn't."
"Wish I could," he says softly, getting out his sonic screwdriver and opening the door. There's surveillance equipment here, he notes, fairly advanced for the decade. He'll have to tinker with that later.
The wristband hums slightly as he drags the sonic screwdriver across, and he can't help but smile. "It's a message!"
"Doctor, Rose," Jack's voice drifts into the silence, "I've tried to locate you, but if you find this message, I will have attempted to rendez-vous with you in Rose's timeline. I've managed to... Borrow a few ship components this base is storing flashing my good looks and I'm leaving this with a... A good friend I made here in case you do show up so you'll know where to find me. Look forward to seeing you. Rose, wear something hot. Doctor - you too."
Rose is beaming stupidly and he realises he is too, and he doesn't care how stupid he looks, lifting her up, feeling her legs straddle him as he kisses her up against the wall possessively, desperately, joyfully.
"Oh, and try not to manhandle each other too much in your joy I'm still alive," Jack's voice comes again, "wait with that until I can enjoy the lovely sight. See you at the bad wolf. Message end."
"You heard the man," Rose whispers against his lips, so much joy in her he thinks he can drown in it.
"I was never much good at taking orders," he replies and kisses her again.
He doesn't even much take orders from himself, he reflects, or he'd never have kissed her at all.
"Right," he says after a moment, letting her down on her feet again, and sticking the wristband in his pocket to return to its owner at a later date. "Jack was obviously here before us, before the Dalek or he would've tried something stupidly heroic."
"Instead of us trying it now."
"Exactly!" he says with spirit, and bends over the controls. The screen flicker to life after a little jab by the sonic screwdriver, showing the hallway outside. Another jab, and it's another hallway. Another jab... And it's the ship.
He knows it from the nightmares he calls memories, gleaming darkly in the flickering light of a vast hall. It shows sign of burn and crash, great scrapes across metal, but also signs of repairs. Human handiwork, no doubt, trying to put together a ship that can be the doom of them just because they can. The power flickers on and off, someone trying to get it to work and clearly failing.
Missing a few vital pieces, perhaps.
"Remind me to kiss Jack when we see him again," he says, watching the ship fail to power up once more. "He might have saved us all with his borrowing."
"He took something from the Dalek's ship?"
"Pieces of it might have fallen from the sky over time and they've collected them here. Jack probably delighted in the technology of it. The Emperor is probably less delighted to wake up and find his ship pinched from."
"I'd bet," she replies, her hand warm on his arm as she leans forward to look too. "I hate it when you steal half the biscuit pack while I'm sleeping."
"I get hungry from listening to you snore," he says absentmindedly, and lets his mind go.
II
a travel in possibilities
II
If this is a military base properly military, there should be something here to blow up the Emperor. Provided the Emperor is injured and unable to defend himself.
If the Emperor can defend himself, still has his strong protective casing, as the dead bodies in this place point to, any weapons this time has may not do much good.
If he can't use weapons, maybe he can make a bomb strong enough to blow up the whole ship. There's bound to be something he can use in this place.
If he makes a bomb, he'll have to make sure the Emperor doesn't disarm it and that means staying close to.
If he stays close, he dies.
If he dies...
He didn't survive by choice last time, he thinks. Maybe he survived long enough to be able to die now.
II
a goodbye
II
Decisions always burn, he thinks, leading Rose back to the TARDIS by her hand, saying nothing as everything in his mind seems to be screaming. They always burn and he's already ashes.
He can't be sure the TARDIS can withstand the blast in the shape she's in. He can't risk killing her, and killing Rose too. He can't be sure the TARDIS gets Rose home in the current state of things either, but he'll just have to hope. It'll be safer than here, at least. It'll be life.
It still burns to let her go.
"What is it?" Rose asks, watching his face, worry in her face. "There's gotta be a way to stop it, right? We're not just swanning off and leaving it?"
"There is a way," he says, feeling 900 years of life and eight kinds of him line up behind him, nodding grimly. Maybe it is time.
"What is it?"
He doesn't reply, merely cups her cheek and feels her skin. "Rose Tyler. You were fantastic, you know that? Absolutely fantastic."
"Doctor, stop it. You make this sound like a goodbye."
No, he thinks, this is a goodbye. And he kisses her because he wants the memory of it, just one more memory of it. She clings to him, her body arching into his, her hands against his neck, not letting him go. He can feel her heartbeats on her lips and the salt of tears not yet cried and he wishes he could be there to let them be cried against his chest.
He loves her. He has to make this decision.
"There is a way," he whispers against her lips. "Might be dangerous. You up for it?"
"Always."
"Come on then!" he beams, dragging her by the hand into the TARDIS. She beams back at him and he thinks he might already be dead from the pain of it all. "Just hold that one down, warm her up, I'll get the device we need..."
He runs out again, closing the doors, changing his mind in one long eternity, thinking he must have her close for as long as he can, must hold her just one more time and changing it back in time to turn and start up the TARDIS with the sonic screwdriver. The sound of it and the sound of Rose calling from within is almost enough to change his mind again, but he stays still, just watching as the TARDIS fades away.
It's always meant to be like this.
It still hurts, even dead.
He gets to work.
II
between time
II
He's sending them away. She knew he would, but Rose does not and Rose is crying, cursing him, watching the recorded message with burning eyes. And she's flying through space to where he ordered her, but her time circuits doesn't work too well, still burning. The time doesn't change. The place does. London, 1963.
And she knows, as she always known, it's time to make a decision now.
It's okay, Rose. Don't cry. We're going to find him and save him. Our choice now.
She lands.
II
900 years of memory
II
Building his bomb, he remembers...
A million planets, 900 years, eternities visited and eternities gone. So many people in time. Susan and Barbra and Ian and Steven and Ben and Polly and Jamie and Liz and Jo and Sarah and Leela and Romana and Adric and Tegan and Nyssa and Turlough and Peri and Mel and Ace and Grace and Jack and Rose and so many others, all clinging to his memories and living there. Living with all shapes he's been, their minds still in his like echoes never dying, sometimes growing to a roar and filling him. They're all there now, all he's been, watching him build death.
He's always done what is necessary to protect. He's always taken whatever measures of time he can.
"I'm sorry," he says to himself, all of himself. "You would have done the same."
And in his mind, the first him smiles faintly and the echo grows.
Would I?
II
a song
II
She sings.
She sings with all her joy, all her memories of him and he hears her, he's here, in this time, he's coming, the old shape of him she remembers, the first shape and even then she did love him, because she was his ship and he was her Doctor.
What's this, my dear girl? Where have you come from?
Your hear him, Rose? He's coming. He's heard us and he's coming.
She sings and time changes.
II
a last meeting
II
The Dalek ship is flickering as he watches it in the vast hall, deadly cargo in his hands, a planet screaming in his mind. Last act of the time war and only two players left.
"No point in killing me!" he calls out and the silence is listening. "I die, this bomb falls and goes off. Boom, bang, burn, totally ruin this good jacket."
"You always were the great exterminator," the Dalek voice booms from inside the ship, a million memories come back to that voice.
"You know me, overachiever," he replies. "I see a planet, I must save. Genetic flaw. Bit like me never shutting up. Talking and universe saving, that's me."
"This is how you save it? By killing?"
"Yep," he says brightly. Death for life. All the time in the world, and the Universe still comes down to that.
"Your device will blow up this entire base," the Dalek voice observes after a moment. "I cannot detect your TARDIS. You will die too."
"Yep," he says again and smiles.
One Dalek, one Time Lord, one bomb. End of the time war. Yes.
Closing his eyes, he remembers Rose's face, shining with tears the first time he saw her on a street in London and he loved her already a little bit then, even in 1963 as an old, cranky man...
No. He didn't have this memory before.
Oh, Rose, he thinks. What are you doing? What are you both doing?
II
a word
II
He's here, she thinks, and she holds him in song while he watches Rose cry, showing him what she wants, what they both want, what they demand. He doesn't want to. He doesn't understand, but he's never fully understood her. There's no one who does anymore, but he understands a little, and it is enough to love him. He's her Doctor. She's his ship.
Send us back to the bad wolf. I've left the words like breadcrumbs in time. Trace them back. Send us back.
You expect me to send you back to danger when someone who sounds like a young, stupid, suicidal me have sent you here, out of some danger you won't tell me of?
Yes.
And he grunts and takes Rose's hand and wipes away her tears and she sings as he touches her too, touches them both.
"Young lady, do you wish to go back?"
Yes.
"Yes," Rose says and the word joins the song.
II
thirteen seconds
II
He remembers...
Helping Rose, helping the TARDIS, sending them both back even not knowing where they'd come from or what the danger really was. Sending them back. Sending them here.
"What the hell did I do?" he says, feeling his mind reel. "What the hell did I go and do?"
He's always been good at implementing bad ideas, he thinks.
The TARDIS is coming, and he throws his bomb as far as he can, hearing the roar of flames as it impacts, the roar of flames coming, growing louder, and so is the song and he staggers under all the noise and he falls, falls, falls.
We're here.
II
a firestorm
II
She hurts.
It burns, so much pain tearing into her, and for a moment, she wants to let go, feeling his depression as her own, the desire to finally, finally have no more pain the strongest wound of all she's suffered, bleeding her.
So easy to let go.
Fall then.
II
a fall
II
He falls and the TARDIS is around him, materializing around him like an embrace, and he stumbles to the console, making her take off again, but the firestorm is on them and she's burning and she's screaming and he falls into Rose as the ship tilts and they're all falling.
"What did you do?!" he hows at Rose, clinging on to her, to life.
"What you made me do!" she rages at him and slaps him. But before he even has time to contemplate his stinging cheek, she's kissing him, and he kisses her back, and her hands are tugging at his sweater and his hands are roaming her body, feeling her arch into his touch and he loves her, he loves her, he loves her even in her stubborn refusal to do what he says and he can't lose her, even if it means letting her go.
But she never lets go and he clings on.
II
a choice
II
She hurts and it's so easy to let go. No more time. No more pain. No more death. Just let go, falling as a rock in the ocean that is time, all the way to the bottom and rest.
But they are in her, her Doctor and his Rose, and she loves. Her decision and she makes it.
She holds on.
II
a breath
II
Inhale....
Skin to skin, he savours the sight of Rose: hair unkempt and laced with light; lips parted as her body adjusts to his; cheeks flaming where his cheek has scraped hers in another kiss; fingertips against his chest feeling two beats; the hollow at her neck where he can kiss the pulse that makes her alive; perspiration across her forehead that strands of hair cling to; her body's rhythm matching his even for all their differences; her eyes meeting his with so much love it's almost a pain because he knows, he always knows.
The measure of time always runs out.
... exhale.
The fall becomes flight.
II
a message for the future
II
He sits and listens to the TARDIS humming as she's soaking up the energy of Cardiff's time rift, the little song left of what was once the full symphony of Gallifrey. If he closes his eyes, he can hear the echoes of it still, see the sky.
"I know, old girl," he says softly, feeling the console under his fingers. "Good thing we have each other and Rose."
Rose. Sleeping now, as she's deserved after everything. He nearly lost her and she nearly lost him too. He's already made one plan in case something happens to him and her life is in danger. But perhaps he better plan for another, especially now that she knows his first plan and fill find some holes in its logic, as always.
He hates that and loves her for it still.
No more time war. The Emperor of the Dalek burned and his ship didn't, sent back in time by his other self (he has to remember to have a stern talk with himself about that later) to save him this time, but there'll always be a next time.
One more message to make then, just in case.
"This is post-regeneration protocol one. Rose, if you're hearing this message, I've died. And that's okay, because we Time Lords have this little way of cheating death. You've probably already seen it or you're about to. It's a bit like getting a new model of the same brand of car, really. Problem is, I never get to test-drive it first.
"Now, it's gonna take some getting used to and I'm sorry. Moan and cry and scream at me, I'm sure I won't mind. And if I do, tell me to shut it. I can't promise you I'll be more handsome. I can't promise you it'll be the same. But Rose - I can promise I'll remember.
"Go easy on me, yeah? Do that for me. Oh - and keep an eye on what I wear. If it's too embarrassing, burn the wardrobe. It's been..."
He tries to think of a word he can use - an honour, a pleasure, great, wonderful, an utter delight, the trip of a lifetime - and the only one that comes to mind is one he's used far too often. But maybe she'll see what's behind it anyway.
"It's been fantastic. See you around, Rose Tyler."
It really has been, he thinks. Pain and loss and stupid decisions, and it really has been. And they haven't run out of time yet. More adventures to have. They'll have to stay in Cardiff in 1963 for a little while at least, while he repairs the TARDIS, and he still has to think of a very good explanation to Rose for how an old, white-haired man in London in 1963 could use the TARDIS. Maybe if he kisses her enough, she'll forget to ask.
And then, time waits and Jack is probably in trouble somewhere and there's always a planet to save.
Maybe not a bad life after all.
When he hears steps a little later, he smiles and keeps his eyes closed, feeling Rose's presence and the faint small of the lavender soap she seems to have grown fond of.
"I thought you were sleeping," he says. "Bed bugs nibble too much?"
"Nah. It's not a bad bed. Nice pillows, even if they smell of jelly babies. It's just better with two."
Opening his eyes, he sees her beaming at him and he beams back.
"You're just saying that because I'm the best you've ever had."
"Hah!"
She laughs when he lifts her up, laughs when he swings her around, laughs when he laughs, and only stop when he kisses her, her arms warm around his neck.
It feels strangely like life, he thinks.
II
a life still
II
Sometimes, in the sentience that is the TARDIS, she thinks about life. Human life, Gallifreyan life, her life. So many differences. He's her Doctor, but even she doesn't fully understand or know him. There's no one left who does now and he mourns Gallifrey too.
There's life, she thinks, and there's what can fill it. There are no words to capture it, but sometimes she borrows the human term of love. He uses it, her Doctor. He loves her and he loves Rose and he loves a million planets he always tries to save and she, she knows love is another word for those who live in time and always, always try to categorize what they feel. Love, affection, care, devotion, fondness, infatuation, romance; all the little words that run out against the measures of time.
She doesn't need them.
She feels them all.
FIN