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regenderate-fic · 1 year

Text

Interwoven, Entangled

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/River Song, Eleventh Doctor/River Song/Rose Tyler, River Song/Rose Tyler, Twelfth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Tenth Doctor, Eleventh Doctor, Twelfth Doctor, Thirteenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, River Song, Amy Pond, Rory Williams, Yasmin Khan, Donna Noble, The TARDIS Rating: General Word Count: 13,819 Other Tags: Canon Divergence, Rose Stays, Bad Wolf Rose, Bad Wolf as Disability, Disabled Character, Polyamory, Timey-Wimey

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Summary: The TARDIS, in all its dimensionality, knows full well that this is not the end. Rose Tyler is already back, after all. As far as the TARDIS is concerned, Rose is already entering the console room for the first time and the last time and all the times in between, her smiles categorized by emotion rather than by chronology, her voice echoing through the corridors.

(Rose and the Doctor, through the years. Gift for corvidlesbian in the 2022 WLDW summer exchange.)

NOTES: this is for rowan for the wldw exchange <3 i don't think i've written that much eleven before, i had fun with this one! probably could've been much much longer but that's why i've got to work on my other rose stays au

She’ll shine so bright.

She did from the start.

Rose Tyler runs into the TARDIS, fraught with emotion, sending sparks through the telepathic field. She’s so real , so solid and true and tangible. For a ship that rarely deals in the tangible, Rose Tyler is a novelty, a delight.

“How long are you going to stay with me?” he asks, standing thousands of lightyears away from her home, ocean water lapping at his toes.

“Forever,” she says, and her hand entwines with his.

Time is difficult. There is, theoretically, a “before” and an “after,” a “beginning” and a “middle” and an “end.” It’s all spread out: the timeline of the universe. The timeline of the Doctor. The timeline of Rose Tyler. It’s the TARDIS’s job to keep track.

The universe’s timeline is easy. It starts at the beginning and ends at the end and fans itself out in the space between.

The Doctor’s timeline is difficult. It twists and turns, weaving in and out of the universe’s, convoluted, ancient, alone.

Rose Tyler’s timeline is unique. It's laid out alongside all the rest, but the TARDIS can hardly measure it, for much the same reason as a humanoid cannot see their full outfit without a mirror: Rose Tyler is— was— will be— wrapped around the TARDIS, their timelines entangled.

Rose Tyler runs into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS recognizes its kin.

The TARDIS pours itself into her. Everything it has, it gives to her— although not without expense. The human body is not meant to hold so much.

Rose bears it well. She has to: her timeline depends on it.

There is a honeymoon period. That’s what a human would call it, anyway, even though no one has married anyone else, in any official sense. It is just the term for the time in between, the point at which things seem easy, uncomplicated, even though they are, of course, more difficult and complex than any human mind could begin to comprehend.

There is a tragic fall.

The TARDIS, in all its dimensionality, knows full well that this is not the end. Rose Tyler is already back, after all. As far as the TARDIS is concerned, Rose is already entering the console room for the first time and the last time and all the times in between, her smiles categorized by emotion rather than by chronology, her voice echoing through the corridors.

But the Doctor, forced to live his personal timeline as a series of moments, one after the other, all lined up in a row, with no way back and no way forward— the Doctor is alone, and the Doctor wants her back.

He asks the TARDIS. Over and over, all at once. Begs and pleads. Tears at the walls between universes. Tries to go back on his own timeline.

The TARDIS is steady. The TARDIS is solid. The TARDIS is stubborn.

This stretch of time, uninhabitable for the Doctor, is just another part of an already-woven tapestry for the TARDIS. If the Doctor were allowed to pull at a thread, the whole thing would come apart.

There’s beauty, in the tapestry. The way all the timelines are arranged, threading around each other, the Doctor darting in and out. It’s a beauty only the TARDIS can see, although it’s not a beauty it fully understands.

Rose’s timeline drops out of the universe for a while. It comes back in drips and drabs: a hop here, a hop there. A few days spent in London. An hour on New Earth. On one occasion, she doesn’t even physically come through: it’s just her face, beamed across airwaves all over the universe, calling out to the Doctor.

River Song’s timeline is complicated. She meets the Doctor in the wrong order, her timeline dancing with his, darting near and then flitting away.

The last time she meets him— the first time he meets her— she looks at him, frowning, and says, “You’re missing Rose.”

That— the fact that she knows Rose, knows what Rose is to him— is what convinces him to trust her.

“She knew Rose,” he says to Donna, sometime later. “She was from my future, and she knew Rose. That— that means something. Doesn’t it?”

Donna rolls her eyes. She’s heard him convince himself he might see Rose again over and over— this is just another red herring.

The TARDIS stays out of it. Rose and the Doctor have to find their own way back to each other: the TARDIS is only a guardian, watching over the timelines as they inevitably converge.

The convergence might as well be an explosion. It’s burned into the universe’s timeline, the Doctor’s timeline, Rose’s timeline. The stars align, and each star is named for the Doctor and his friends. Rose. Martha. Jack. Sarah Jane. Gwen. Ianto. Harriet Jones, former prime minister.

Donna Noble.

Everything is tangled. It’s one of those points in time the TARDIS can’t sort out into any kind of line. It’s all so bright, so massive, that it takes itself over, becomes a kind of jumble.

The TARDIS is almost destroyed.

Captain Jack— whose timeline is distorted, out of alignment with the universe, out of alignment with the TARDIS— dies, at least once.

The Doctor’s regeneration energy flows into Donna, and Donna saves the day.

Rose Tyler is on a nearly-empty street, gun in one hand, cane in the other. She’s scanning the street, looking, searching—

When she sees the Doctor, everything shifts. Their timelines snap together, perfect, entwined.

He starts running, and so does she. She drops the gun, and then after a few steps with the cane she drops that too. They’re like the sun and the moon and nothing matters, in this moment, besides the two of them— nothing—

Nothing but the Dalek.

There’s a standoff on a Dalek ship. There’s a warp star. There’s an Osterhagen key.

Suddenly the hands holding them are transported, and star and key fall clattering to their respective floors.

A four-way video call, timelines just a little out of sync with the TARDIS. It scrapes against her, the sort of irritant that would cause an oyster to create a pearl. It allows the TARDIS to slip through the cracks, letting herself align with the Earth.

The Shadow Proclamation, and a woman who can see timelines nearly as well as the TARDIS. Planets, clicking into formation on a holographic monitor. The TARDIS always feels uneasy here. It’s too law-abiding for its liking.

The Dalek’s laser hits the Doctor, and he falls to the ground. Rose falls with him, the strength gone from her legs. She cradles his head as Jack shoots the Dalek, as he runs back to pick up her cane. There's a moment of quiet— of peace— their timelines merged in perfect clarity—

And then Jack is there, pulling Rose away, pressing her cane back into her hand, lifting the Doctor into the TARDIS. Rose stumbles after, her burst of adrenaline gone.

The moment she crosses the threshold, her timeline and the TARDIS’s merge. It’s visible in her frown, the way she glances around the space; the TARDIS feels it in the way her mind is brushing against the TARDIS’s telepathic field, pressing, pushing.

The TARDIS welcomes her.

She falls to the floor, only a safe distance from the Doctor because Jack won’t let her get any closer, and she watches, dazed, as light drifts from the Doctor’s hands, and the TARDIS feels her lovefearexhaustionhappinesshope. It’s raw, sharp, coming through more clearly than the Doctor’s feelings do. The TARDIS absorbs it, integrates Rose’s feelings into itself, accepts Rose as its own.

The Doctor ignites.

Regeneration is always painful, for the TARDIS. Every cell in the Doctor’s body burns, and the TARDIS burns with it. Those spots of flame are peppered across its timeline, scars in its surface.

This time, the scar is smaller. Incomplete. But it burns in Rose’s mind too, tears streaming down her face as she feels it all again. The TARDIS reaches out with an attempt at soothing, and Rose flinches. There's a deep exhaustion in her bones, and it seeps into the TARDIS’s awareness.

It's the TARDIS’s fault, that Rose is so tired. Unavoidable, but unforgivable nonetheless.

The Doctor’s energy siphons into his hand, and he sits up. Rose snaps back into herself: the pain is gone. Their eyes meet. They hover, just for a moment, in a holding pattern. Neither says anything. They don't need to; they experienced that moment together, and although they don't know exactly what happened, the broad strokes are there. The Doctor didn't regenerate; Rose is different now. The rest is just detail.

The Doctor reaches out, his eyes fixed entirely on her. His thumb grazes her cheek, brushing aside her tears. She's staring blankly at him, and he's searching her eyes, looking for something

“You're still you?” she asks, her voice thin and uncertain. They're being watched— Jack and Donna are still there, hanging back— but this moment is too important for self-consciousness.

“Still me.”

Rose launches herself forward, landing sloppily on the Doctor’s lap. Her arms snake around his neck, and he presses her against him.

Even for the TARDIS, this moment seems to go on forever. It's like a little bubble in the timeline: a perfect stillness, a moment that exists solely for itself, hovering separate from all the rest.

The bubble pops. But the Doctor and Rose don’t let go. They’re leaning on each other as they step out of the TARDIS and onto the Dalek ship, as they face down Davros.

Regeneration burns bright in the TARDIS’s timeline, but Donna Noble is a blaze that shines across the entire universe. It’s Rose, in the end, who takes the power out of her, drains it away. Rose, who by now can barely stand, who is only just beginning to understand her transformation.

Everything the TARDIS has, Rose has too.

The timelines diverge. Martha has gone back home. Mickey’s gone with her, and Jack. The Doctor and Rose have left Jackie on Bad Wolf Bay, a parting filled with tears— but Jackie has a family to get back to, and Rose— well, Rose has the Doctor, and the TARDIS, and a whole new life ahead of her.

The TARDIS has limits: it cannot perceive Rose’s timeline when she is in another universe. It does not know what’s happened to Rose. It does know that she looks happy, when she’s traveling in the TARDIS; it does know that she is a part of this universe now. She is made in the TARDIS’s image, as much as any human form can be: it’s the TARDIS that sustains her, and it’s the universe, this universe, that sustains the TARDIS.

But the sustenance is not without sacrifice. Rose must leave her mother on a beach in another universe. They will never see each other again.

They drop off Donna at home, too. She asks for it, says she needs a break. The Doctor warns her her body may have changed— she might find herself living a little too long, or with fewer colds than before, or with the uncanny ability to always know what time it is, even without looking at a clock. She’s had all of time resting on her shoulders; it’s lifted now, but that’s the sort of thing that leaves a mark.

The timelines diverge, but Rose’s and the Doctor’s stay intertwined. Everyone is gone, and there they are, in the console room, sitting on the floor, exchanging all the little touches that say You’re here? and I’m here and I can’t believe you’re here and I know . They’re shy, still, maybe the shyest they’ve ever been, sitting cross-legged, face-to-face, hands joined, Rose looking down and picking at a loose thread on her trousers as she explains the dimension cannon, the illness’s slow progression, the desperation to get back.

The Doctor’s eyes never leave her face, hardly even blink. Until finally, she glances up at him, biting her lip, and says, “I just wanted to get back to you before I— in case—”

She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t have to. At this point, this dot in her timeline, she doesn’t know yet how long that timeline truly is, how close she is to its beginning. All she knows is she’s been sick, getting sicker, and for most humans that is a sign of death.

“Rose,” the Doctor says, and he’s meeting her eyes now. “Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Rose nods. There are tears in her eyes again, but she doesn’t let them fall. “I think—” She swallows. “I think it’s connected to the TARDIS. When I came in here—”

“You felt me regenerate.” It’s not a question. It’s a quiet, solid statement.

Rose nods again.

“You looked into the heart of the TARDIS,” the Doctor says. “I should’ve known it would change you.” He pauses. “We can run some scans. Work with the TARDIS, see if it’ll tell us what you are. We’ll figure it out. All right?”

“Yeah.” There’s almost a smile on Rose’s face, trying its hardest to push through.

The Doctor clings to her hand. Tentative, hesitant, he brushes a bit of hair off her face, tucking it carefully behind his ear.

“I missed you,” he says softly. “I thought— I thought I’d never see you again.”

Rose really smiles now. “Good thing you were wrong.”

The Doctor’s smiling back, verging on a grin. “Come here.” He pulls at Rose’s arm, and in the blink of an eye she’s on his lap, wrapping herself around him, him wrapping himself around her. It’s another bubble, in their timeline: by the time they break apart, they could’ve been there five seconds or five hours. Not even the TARDIS can tell.

The timelines have diverged, all except the Doctor’s and Rose’s. The Doctor won’t leave her side: he helps her get to her room, and then he lingers long enough and she holds on to him tightly enough that he just doesn’t leave, and they fall asleep together, still in their clothes, curled up on Rose’s bed.

Timing, for the TARDIS, is everything. It sees all of time and space laid out, every second of every day on every planet. In theory, the TARDIS could change it— it could drop in at the wrong time, or shift a timeline or two around.

In practice, the TARDIS has very little power. Time is interconnected; if you pull out one thread, the whole tapestry falls apart. The TARDIS could have made the Doctor aware, much earlier, that it had changed Rose, that Rose would be coming back, that Rose’s timeline stretched far further than the Doctor thought. The TARDIS could have changed everything— but it didn’t. Rose’s timeline intersected with the universe at the exact moment necessary to save it. If the TARDIS had interfered— had helped the Doctor, or told him he might see her again— the universe might have been destroyed. The TARDIS can map all the possibilities, branching out, and it knows when to step in and when to stay out.

Now, though, it shows the Doctor everything. The artron energy, fizzing in Rose’s mind. The slight rearranging of her tissues, painful but necessary to make room for the vortex energy now coursing through her veins. Most importantly—

Rose is connected to the TARDIS. Telepathically, but also physically. The TARDIS was meticulous, in its rearranging: by tying Rose to it, on some metaphysical level, it could ensure her survival, if not her health.

The TARDIS is good at what it does. Rose’s timeline stretches far ahead, with little room for error. The TARDIS cannot see the end of it.

This is the adjustment period. Rose is healing, somewhat: she will always feel better in this universe. She will always feel better in the TARDIS. She will still hurt, be easily exhausted, but it will be less.

She is also learning what it is to be tethered to time itself. She is more intimately connected with the TARDIS than even the Doctor is; all of time is still inside her head. She finds herself stumbling during takeoff, or getting distracted by the infinite possible variations on the next few moments while making tea, or trying to move too slowly or too quickly. She will adjust, in time, but right now she is lost.

The Doctor is there for her, of course. For the first few days, they don't leave the TARDIS. The first morning, they don't leave Rose’s bed: they wake up together, all smiles, despite everything. When they're awake enough to worry about the big stuff, the Doctor finds a portable TARDIS monitor. He sits cross-legged with the monitor in his lap and scans Rose with the sonic relays information from the monitor to Rose in a voice taut with emotion, and she listens, lying on her side, her hand in his.

“So I'm not dying, then,” she jokes.

“No,” the Doctor says, and he's not joking: it comes out raw.

“I can live with that,” Rose says, and this time it's not a joke. It's a serious thing, living with all this, especially living for so long. It will be worth it, for Rose, in the end.

“Rose,” the Doctor breathes, and he sets the monitor aside so he can lie down next to her, his hand running along her arm. It's still a miracle that she's here at all, and it shows in the sheer reverence of the Doctor’s touch, the way his fingers just barely ghost her. And it shows in the way Rose clings to him, the back of his jacket balled up in her fists as she buries her head in his chest. He brushes his hands through her hair, holding her close.

It's like learning to walk again, those first few days. Rose can barely stand at first, so disoriented by her new perception of time; The TARDIS is in the back of her mind, trying to steady her, but there’s only so much the TARDIS can do when its newfound presence in the back of her mind is part of the problem.

But the Doctor is there, at her side. He brings her tea. He unearths crutches from somewhere in the wardrobe, and Rose leans on them when she’s not leaning on him. He helps her sort through all the timelines in her head, the possibilities and the realities, points fixed and flux, the entire universe spinning within her. He waits, patient, until she’s ready to move on her own.

On the second or third day, once Rose makes it from her room to the kitchen with the crutches without falling over, once she’s able to say three sentences without getting distracted by the timelines in her mind, she and the Doctor can start to get to know each other again. They’ve been apart for two years; they’ve had new experiences, made new friends. They sit together in the library, curled up on a sofa, and the Doctor tells Rose about Martha and Donna and new adventures with Jack, and Rose tells the Doctor all about her mum and dad, and her new little brother, and all the people she worked with. She laughs when the Doctor tells her about Martha’s crush on him, prompted by a kiss— “What did you expect?” she asks, shaking her head.

“It was a genetic transfer!” he sputters.

Rose rolls her eyes, affectionately squeezing his knee. “No woman’s ever going to believe that.”

“Maybe they should start,” the Doctor grumbles, and Rose shakes her head again.

He’s amazed by the picture of her little brother.

“Another Tyler,” he murmurs, peering at her tiny phone screen. “Don't think the world is ready.”

“Was doing all right when I left,” Rose replies. She leans into the Doctor, her head resting on his shoulder. “Only been a couple days since I saw him.”

The Doctor draws her closer. It's palpable: they only have each other now. Each other, and the TARDIS.

There's a span in there— days, or maybe weeks— where the Doctor and Rose are still dancing around each other. Neither of them brings up Bad Wolf Bay, nor do they put words to their feelings for each other; everything is passed through touch, touch and the briefest moments of eye contact, the soft smiles that pass between them. The Doctor is still sleeping in Rose’s room every night. He claims he wants to be there to take care of her, to make sure she's all right, but she's been getting better for days, and the way he holds her— the way he brushes his fingers across his hair— he's making sure she's still there.

She always is.

They go to Rome, 2113, for their first trip. It’s safe: there’s no alien threat, nothing to disrupt them. That’s not what they need right now. What they need is a place to walk down the sidewalk, a place to sit on a bench in a park, a place to navigate their new-old dynamic. Rose is steady enough that she only needs her cane, and she and the Doctor can walk hand in hand, slowly through the park. They hold themselves carefully, exchanging fleeting sidelong glances, shy smiles.

They sit by a fountain, watching water flow from old stone. Others come in and out of the scene: a family having a picnic, a group of friends laughing as they pass by. School groups, individuals, couples. But Rose and the Doctor are still focused on each other, on sitting just close enough but not too close, in case they tear the delicate thread between them.

“Feeling all right?” the Doctor asks, his eyes searching her face.

“Never better,” Rose says. But then she smiles, tongue between her teeth. “Honest, Doctor, I’m all right. Bit out of breath. Had worse.”

He slings his arm across her shoulders, and she lets her head rest against his chest.

“It’s a nice day out,” she says.

“Just right,” he agrees.

They sit for a long time, watching as the sun begins to set. Finally, the Doctor stands, offering Rose his hand, and she takes it, using it and her cane to push herself to her feet. They walk back to the TARDIS, the Doctor’s arm still around Rose’s shoulders, her arm around his waist.

“Doctor?” Rose says one night, as they’re about to fall asleep. The room is dark, with only the slightest amber glow outlining their faces; Rose is lying on her stomach, head turned to face the Doctor, lying on his side.

He lifts his head, propping himself up on his elbow. “Hm?”

“Is it going to be all right?” Rose asks. “If I keep traveling with you?”

“It’s going to be brilliant,” the Doctor says, a grin threatening to take over his face. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Rose swallows. “I dunno. I just— I always said I’d stay with you forever, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen, didn’t we?”

“Rose, I—” The Doctor’s voice is low and rough. “You know I never thought you would stay forever. But you really don’t know how much time I spent wishing you could.”

Rose’s breaths were sharp in the quiet room. “Really?”

The Doctor laughed, incredulous. “Rose, you— I never thought I would see you again. The fact that you’re here, with me— the fact that you want to stay here— it’s more than I ever could have hoped for.”

“Even if I can’t run like I used to?” Rose checked.

The Doctor lays his head on the pillow again, adjusting his position so his eyes are level with hers. He brushes a bit of blonde hair off her cheek.

“Rose Tyler,” he says. “There is absolutely nothing that could make me not want you around. All right?”

Rose nods, the beginnings of a smile on her face.

“I’m really glad I got back to you,” she murmurs.

The Doctor wraps an arm around her, pulls her in until she’s curled against his chest.

“Me too,” he whispers into her hair.

They fall asleep entwined.

There are more adventures, after that. They take things slowly, where they can.

They keep things peaceful, for the most part, except when they don’t. Rose is learning her limits: she can’t run like she used to, but in a wheelchair she’s faster than ever, and as she adjusts to her newfound perception of time, she begins to dodge threats before they happen. She still loves adventure, still smiles in the face of disaster, still wants to see and do everything she can.

It’s like it used to be— the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS. They’re both different— the circumstances are different— but the adventures are, at their core, fueled by the same spirit of joy and investigation, characterized by the same wide smiles.

The TARDIS can perceive timelines. The universe’s; the Doctor’s; Rose Tyler’s. It sees everything all at once, every possibility. But there are some moments, some points in its own timeline, in which the stakes are too high for even the TARDIS to perceive.

Usually, these are times when the TARDIS itself is in danger, when its continued existence hinges solely on external actions, when there are two possibilities and one is continuous and the other is cut short. It can see, perhaps, the continuous timeline, in which the Doctor and Rose stay with it, in which it keeps bouncing around the universe. But that timeline is not a guarantee.

These are the events, as the TARDIS is able to perceive them:

The Doctor and Rose are parked in London.

There are Daleks.

The Doctor and Rose are about to leave the TARDIS.

Suddenly, Rose falls to the floor. The Doctor is knelt at her side in an instant.

The lights go out in the console room.

Words are exchanged between Rose and the Doctor.

There’s nothing he can do, from here. The Daleks are sapping power from the TARDIS, and Rose is connected to the TARDIS.

The Doctor runs out the door.

Some time later, the lights come back on. Rose sits up.

The doors open, and the Doctor stumbles through. Rose runs to him.

“What happened?” she asked. “Are you all right?” She’s touching him, patting his sides, his chest, running her hands along his arms. It all seems in good working order.

Until he shakes his head. Holds up his hand.

There’s a golden glow.

“Got to get the TARDIS out of here,” he manages.

Rose nods, still stunned. There are tears in her eyes, but she goes to the console. She launches the TARDIS on her own while the Doctor leans against the wall, watching with sad eyes.

The TARDIS is safely in the vortex, and Rose runs to the Doctor’s side.

“What can I do?” she asks. “Do you need— I mean—”

“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’m dying.”

She nods, swallowing tears. She steps back. And then something hard sets into her expression, and she grabs the lapels of the Doctor’s jacket and drags him down into a ravenous kiss. There’s a moment, a brief moment, where he’s frozen stiff, but then he grabs her, threads his hands through her hair, presses her to him—

And then they break apart, gasping for air. The Doctor’s hands are really glowing now, the golden light snaking its way across the console room—

Rose backs away.

“I love you,” she says, only for the second time. There’s complete certainty in her words.

The Doctor stares at her. He takes in a breath— about to respond—

But the golden light overtakes him. It bursts out of his body, slicing through the TARDIS’s supports, and Rose runs to the console, picking a location at random, just so they’ll have someplace to land.

They don’t land. They crash. They crash in someone’s backyard, and the Doctor, the new Doctor, falls all the way back to the swimming pool, and Rose gets stuck in one of the corridors, disoriented, dizzy, barely able to sit up. The TARDIS is damaged— it will be able to repair itself, but it will take time.

There’s a grappling hook in the library, for some reason. A grappling hook, and a swimming pool— things are getting a bit jumbled, in the depths of the TARDIS. It’s lucky, though, because the Doctor will need to leave while the TARDIS is repairing itself. Rose will stay, of course; she is part of the TARDIS, and the TARDIS will keep her safe. But the Doctor will need to pull himself up, hand over hand, to the doors, and fling himself out of the TARDIS and onto the grass.

The TARDIS loses track of his timeline, here. It fills in the events retroactively, based on what happens later: the Doctor has met a young girl, a girl who gives him an apple and bacon and beans on toast and countless other things as he calibrates his new taste buds, only to realize that all he really wanted was fish fingers and custard.

There is something in this girl’s home. A crack in time and space. A prisoner.

The Doctor jumps into the TARDIS again, just to stabilize it. It works, but not well enough: the TARDIS jumps years into the future rather than minutes. The Doctor runs out, and slowly, the TARDIS recovers. Rose manages to make her way to the console room, crawling across the floor in the absence of her cane. She can feel the Doctor’s timeline: she knows where he’s gone. But she’s not quite up to following— and both she and the TARDIS will recover faster if they stay together. She winds up sitting in the doorway, watching as the walls reform, as the dingy coral-like pillars transform into something shiny and golden. Her cane, lying on the floor, has been melted and twisted, and the TARDIS makes her a new one, lets it drop from a slot in the console. It’s an amber color, with streaks of gold and brown down the sides, and a deep blue handle. Rose is recovered enough that she can stagger over to the console and pick it up— she sits just next to the console until the TARDIS is finished with its repairs, born anew.

Rose goes out of the TARDIS, then. Her time senses are still a little discombobulated— she doesn’t trust herself to go looking for the Doctor. But if she goes outside, if she leans against the TARDIS doors, she’ll see him the moment he comes back.

She’s not waiting very long. The TARDIS has taken a long time to repair; the Doctor has taken a little longer to deal with the alien threat, but not by much. He comes back in new clothes, a new face. His new friends— Amy and Rory— are behind him, but they disappear from consciousness the second he steps into view of Rose.

As soon as he sees her, he stops in his tracks. He looks at her, his mouth slightly open, taking her in through new eyes. She steps forward, her eyes traveling his new body, noticing his new jacket, his unlined face, his floppy hair. He presents himself to her, his new self, asking wordlessly for her approval.

Of course she gives it. Her smile lights up her face, and he steps closer, lets her run a hand along his arm, up to his hair, down to his shoulder.

“Rose Tyler,” he says, his voice low. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you. It’s very important. Maybe the most important thing I could ever say.”

Rose tilts her head to the side, her smile dimmed by her confusion. “What’s that?”

He lets his fingers comb through her hair, his thumb ghosting her cheek. Her face relaxes, just a little, back into a smile, and the Doctor leans down to kiss her forehead.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

Rose’s smile widens. She drops her cane so she can snake her arms around the Doctor’s neck. She pulls him to her, and their lips meet, her hands in his hair, his on her waist. There’s a moment, in there, where it seems like they might never break apart—

But then Amy, her voice just a little too loud, says, “D’you think he’s forgotten about us?”

The Doctor jumps back with a gasp. Rose is laughing; she wraps her arm around one of his, looking up with a grin. “New friends, Doctor?”

“Ah,” he says. “Yes. New friends.” He gestures to each of them in turn. “Amelia Pond. Rory Williams.” He glances at Rose. “Thought we might invite them to come with us.”

“The more the merrier,” Rose says. She leans her head against the Doctor’s shoulder. “Knew I couldn’t keep you to myself forever.”

He looks at her, a raw intimacy in his eyes. “You’ll always have me.”

Rose smiles. She extricates herself from the Doctor and picks up her cane, holding it in her left hand so she can step forward and extend her right.

“I’m Rose,” she says. “Rose Tyler.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, shaking her hand. “We’ve heard a surprisingly large amount about you in the last few hours.”

The Doctor glances at Rose. “We’d better do a quick hop to the moon and back. Just to calibrate. Wouldn’t want to risk piloting an uncalibrated TARDIS with strangers aboard.”

“Oh, but you’ll risk me?” Rose asks, grinning.

The Doctor grins back. They both know it’s a silly question.

“Back in five minutes,” he says to Amy and Rory. “Or— don’t wait up. But I will be back.” To Rose, he adds, “You missed it. I accidentally skipped twelve years of Amy’s life.”

“You—” Rose shakes her head. “What were you doing, making friends and then going off in a broken TARDIS?”

“I’d just regenerated!” the Doctor protested. “I was barely functional. Amelia here was very kind to let me eat her food.”

“Thanks for that,” Rose says to Amy. “He’s awful when he’s hungry.”

“Oi, we don’t know what I’ll be, this time around,” the Doctor says.

Rose looks him over. “Suppose not.”

He meets her eyes for a moment, then looks back to Amy and Rory. “Right,” he says. “We’ll be back. No promises on timing.”

He takes Rose’s hand, and they enter the TARDIS together.

They hop to the moon. They turn on the oxygen shields and sit on the rocky ground, leaning against the TARDIS, leaning against each other.

“We really ought to get back,” the Doctor muses, staring up at the dark sky and the blue dot that is the earth.

Rose, next to him, takes his hand, threading her fingers through his brand new ones.

“It's a time machine,” she says, and she angles herself so that her torso’s facing the Doctor, raises her free hand to run her fingers along his cheek. “You just regenerated. We can afford to rest for a minute.”

“Right,” the Doctor says. “Okay. A rest.”

He’s facing Rose, accepting her touch. Rose’s hand runs along the skin on the Doctor’s face, over his browbone, down to his nose and lips and chin until it comes to rest on the bowtie. She straightens it with a little smile.

“I like the new look.”

The Doctor’s been watching her the whole time, his eyes trained on her face as she looks him over.

“Do you?” he asks. “That's a relief. Would've been humiliating if you hadn't. Right after I said I loved you, too.”

“And about time, too.” Rose is still smiling as she says it. Her eyes flick up to meet the Doctor’s, and he rests a hand on her waist, holding her in place. For a moment, they hold each other’s eyes, a universe passing between them— and then the moment breaks, becomes a new moment, something blooming beneath the black sky and pinprick stars.

They fall into each other, a tangle of arms and legs and breath and hair. There’s years of pent-up love and affection in their kiss: it’s relief and excitement and hunger and care all in one. They break apart, panting, only to fall towards each other again, and the Doctor pulls Rose onto his lap, presses her into him as her hands map out his new chest, his shoulders, his back. Neither of them seems to mind the rocky ground or the hard wood of the TARDIS doors: they’re too caught up in each other.

It’s impossible to say how long they spend on the moon. Even the TARDIS, measuring out every second, can’t quite keep track. Time is relative, after all, and to Rose and the Doctor this time spins out for years and years while only lasting seconds. And, at the end of it, they jump back in the TARDIS as if no time has passed at all.

The TARDIS lands, again, in Amelia Pond’s backyard. The second the brakes grind into silence, Rose nudges the Doctor.

“We’re two years off,” she whispers.

The Doctor looks at her, eyes wide. “Are we really?”

She nods. “Nothing to be done about it,” she says. “Amy will have heard us already.”

“Suppose we’d better go out and apologize, then.” He smiles at her, and there’s a trace of his old self in the way his eyes sparkle.

“Suppose we’d better.”

Their hands lace together, and they step out of the TARDIS.

It’s night now. Amy’s already in the garden, wearing a nightgown, illuminated bright white by the moonlight and the glow from the TARDIS windows.

“You did come back,” she says, staring with wonder at the TARDIS.

“Told you we would,” the Doctor replies. “Sorry it took so long. She should be in good shape now, though. Promise.” He peers around the garden, searching for something. “Where’s your nurse?”

“He's—” Amy faltered. Her eyes flitted from the Doctor to Rose to the TARDIS. “He's at his bachelor party.”

Rose reacts first. Her mouth drops open, her eyes wide. “Congratulations!” She frowns. “It is congratulations, isn't it? He didn't run off with someone else?”

“No, it's me!” Amy’s smile is shy, almost sheepish.

“Hang on a second,” the Doctor says. “You're getting married?”

Amy nods. She holds up her hand, and Rose leans in to look at the ring.

“Oh, my God, it's gorgeous,” she says. “When's the wedding?”

Amy shifts her weight. “Tomorrow?”

Rose and the Doctor look at each other.

“Suppose we could pop back in, come back in a few days?” the Doctor tries.

Amy grabs his arm. “Absolutely not. You are going nowhere. In fact, you’re coming to the wedding. Both of you.”

“We’re— what?” The Doctor flounders, but Amy is already tugging at his arm, pulling him towards the house. Rose follows behind them, laughing.

Amy puts them up in a guest room. The Doctor offers, over and over, to go back and sleep in the TARDIS— “We won’t go anywhere, promise—” but Amy isn’t having it.

“I don’t trust that ship of yours,” she says.

“She has a point,” Rose says.

The Doctor glares at her, and she giggles.

“Good night, you two,” Amy says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.” She shuts the door on them, and they fall, laughing, on the bed. They fall asleep in just their T-shirts, Rose draped across the Doctor’s chest, his arms tight around her.

Rose wakes up to a flurry of activity outside the bedroom door and a fully unconscious Doctor in her bed. She gives him a soft smile as she sits up, smoothing his hair down with her hand. He doesn’t stir.

She sits there for a few minutes, fiddling with the Doctor’s hair, blinking herself awake, until there’s a knock at the door. She swings her feet over the edge of the bed, reaching to grab her jeans from the day before. She pulls them on and picks up her cane from where it’s leaning against the nightstand. She stands stiffly and makes her way over to the door, cracking it open just enough to see who’s knocked.

Amy’s on the other side, her red hair already hanging in elegant curls around her face.

“You two all right?”

Rose nods. She glances back at the Doctor. “He’s still dead asleep. Promise I’ll have him up in time for the wedding.”

Amy grins. “You’d better. You’ve got four hours to be dressed and ready, if you want to come with us to the venue. And there’s not exactly other transportation, so I’d recommend being ready in four hours.” She raises her eyebrows. “You’re not taking that faulty timeship.”

“Understood.” Rose gives her a mock salute. “If I go back to the TARDIS to get us some formalwear, are you going to bite my head off?”

“I’ll hold myself back,” Amy says.

“Right.” Rose smiles. “We’ll be ready. Now go, stop worrying about us and start worrying about your wedding day.”

The grin on Amy’s face is radiant. “That’s the plan.” She disappears, and Rose shuts the door. She sits back down on the bed, looking down at the Doctor. She pulls out her old flip phone and sets an alarm, and then she lies back down next to him, curling against his side.

Four hours later, Rose and the Doctor are dressed and ready as promised. The Doctor’s wearing one of his suits— “Nothing good ever happens when I wear this,” he complains, but Rose shuts him down with, “Nothing good ever happens when we tell the TARDIS to take us somewhere random, either, but we keep doing it, don’t we?” Rose, for her part, has a floor-length dress in a dark blue that matches the handle of her cane (and the TARDIS, but who’s counting?). They join the bridal party in the trip to the venue, the Doctor entertaining with simple magic tricks while Rose tried to figure out how to explain who they were and why they were here to a group of curious bridesmaids.

Once at the venue, Amy told them they had to say hello to Rory— “I’ve warned him you’re here,” she said, “but I don’t want him to see you for the first time when he’s waiting at the altar.” Her smile is back. “I want his eyes on me.”

“They will be,” Rose promises.

Rory is preoccupied, but pleased to see them. He looks as happy as a person can look, in a tuxedo with his hair swept to the side. They have a quick conversation, and then the Doctor and Rose go to take their seats in the back of the church, waiting for the space to fill up.

The ceremony is beautiful. Amy is gorgeous in her gown; Rory’s smile when he sees her brightens up the entire church.

The reception is filled with happiness. Amy and Rory are practically glowing; they laugh as they dance, stepping around the floor with their bodies pressed together. Rose and the Doctor watch from their seats, hand in hand, and when the dance floor opens up, the Doctor tugs on Rose’s arm.

“Dance with me?”

Rose hesitates for a second, evaluates— and then she nods. She lets the Doctor pull her to her feet. She leans on him as they make their way to the dance floor, and then he spins her in and pulls her close. She rests her head against his chest, smiling, and they sway to the music.

The next day, they're back in the TARDIS, but now Amy and Rory are there too. It’s livelier, with them here, admiring the sleek golden console room, wandering the halls. They're on a honeymoon, strictly speaking, and so they go to a resort on a faraway planet, where Amy sits on the beach with Rory, and Rose and the Doctor poke around, looking for anything interesting to investigate.

(Of course they find something, and of course it turns out to be some kind of interplanetary plot to bring down the resort from the inside, and of course they drag Amy and Rory into it. It's a good thing they succeed in saving the day— it would've been a shame to have led Amy and Rory to their deaths on their honeymoon.)

Enter River Song.

River is an archaeologist. She did her thesis on the Doctor, which led to her meeting the Doctor, which gave her more questions than she knew what to do with. She's been chasing after him ever since, trying to find answers, and then, later, seeking company. Her timeline is long— longer than most— and convoluted, turning in on itself, going back and forth and back again: River Song is no stranger to time travel.

Of course, the Doctor doesn't know any this. To the Doctor, River is a woman who showed up once, in a giant library, asked him where Rose was, and then sacrificed herself for him.

Of course, River doesn’t know that . And the Doctor won’t tell her.

Rose, for her part, only has the broadest strokes, the vague idea that the Doctor has a future lover who isn’t her but knows her name.

The first time the three of them meet, at least from the Doctor’s and Rose’s perspectives, it is because Rose and the Doctor come when they’re called. There’s a box in a museum far in the future, and a recording in which River Song recites a set of coordinates. The Doctor and Rose have a quick debate over whether or not it’s a trap, and then, as Amy and Rory watch in horror, they acknowledge that even if it was a trap, they would go anyway, and they set the TARDIS in motion.

River Song falls, practically floats, into the open TARDIS door.

River already knows them. She calls the Doctor “sweetie,” smiling like it’s an inside joke. It is, of course— the Doctor just isn’t in on it yet. And she calls Rose “love,” the word comfortable in her mouth. She helps them pilot the TARDIS, and when they step out onto an unfamiliar beach, she is confident and competent as she introduces the Doctor and Rose as “the equivalent of an army.”

The minute she utters the words weeping angels , the Doctor tells Amy and Rory to go back to the TARDIS. They don’t, of course: Rory tries to, but Amy grips his hand, holding him there. He rolls his eyes at her, but he doesn’t protest.

The angel is trapped on a ship. River’s goal, taken from the soldiers and passed along to the Doctor and Rose, is to get up through a network of catacombs to enter the ship from below. She shows them a video of the angel, and Rose tugs at the Doctor’s sleeve.

“That’s not a video,” she says.

River looks at her. “I got it off the security cameras in the Byzantium vault.”

Rose shakes her head. “It feels wrong. I can’t—” She closes her eyes, frowning. “I don’t have words to explain it. But it’s not safe. We’ve got to get out.”

Outside, River pulls out a book on the angels. The Doctor looks over her shoulder, and Rose sits with Amy and Rory, still frowning. She closes her eyes again.

And then the Doctor shouts. “Rose!”

Rose opens her eyes. She pushes herself up with her cane, making her way unsteadily over to the Doctor. He wraps an arm around her waist.

“I’ve got it,” he says. “What takes the image of an angel becomes itself an angel.” He looks at Rose. “That’s what you were sensing. The angels, by nature of their very existence, create a disturbance in time.”

“And I sense time,” Rose murmurs. She looks from the Doctor to River. “And if that’s the case, you should know there are more.”

“What?” River asks.

“I can’t figure out exactly where,” Rose says. “I’m still getting used to the whole sensing time thing. But it’s not just that one angel. There are more here, somewhere.”

The Doctor and River exchange a look.

“The soldiers,” River says. “We have to warn them.”

“You go,” the Doctor says. “Nobody leaves this camp until we find the other angels.” He looks at Rose. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “Just a bit dizzy. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Brilliant.” He hesitates. “Rose, have I told you about the angels?”

Rose frowns. “I think so. You said… they’re the ones you have to look at, right?”

“Right.” The Doctor lets his arm slide off her waist so he can take her hand in both of his. “So my question is, if you can sense them, do you think that qualifies as looking?”

“I don’t know.” Rose closes her eyes again. “I still can’t tell where they are. Just that they’re around.”

“But you could tell you were sensing the one in the video,” the Doctor counters.

“That one was close,” Rose says. “And it’s the only one in the camp. The others— they’re further away. I can’t sense them as clearly.” She opens her eyes, half a smile on her face. “I can’t do everything.”

The Doctor grins back. “I know.”

River returns, soldiers in tow. By now, the Doctor has a plan: “No one leaves this camp without Rose,” he says. He gestures to the module. “We keep that door closed. Rose, you take River and Octavian and see if you can find the other angels. I’ll stay here with everyone else.”

“Time travel seems to be a lot of waiting,” Amy remarks.

The Doctor whirls to face her. “Better bored than dead,” he says.

Amy shrugs.

Rose follows River into the caves. Instantly, she freezes, letting more of her weight fall onto her cane: River recognizes the shift, and she’s at Rose’s side right away, letting Rose use her for support.

“Thanks,” Rose says, a little dazed. “Er— the angels are in here. Loads of them.”

“Where?” River asks.

Rose’s voice drops to a whisper. “Everywhere.”

River looks around. The cave is full of rough-hewn statues: humanoid, but not particularly angelic. But— “The Aplans,” she says. “The people who lived on this planet. They had two heads.”

“So—” Rose looks around, stares at the rocky walls, the statues carved into them.

Not carved.

“I’ve found your angels,” River breathes.

Rose and River return to the camp, Octavian in tow. River relays the new information to the Doctor.

“But we were surrounded,” Rose adds. “If they could’ve moved, they would have, and they didn’t.”

“So you’re saying—”

“I think you were right,” Rose says. “About me observing them.”

“Right,” the Doctor says. He grins. “That’s good news, Rose Tyler. That means we can get up to the ship.” He pulls her into a hug, arms tight around her waist. “You’re like a good luck charm.”

Rose laughs into his chest. She steps back. “Still need a plan, though.”

The plan is this: the whole group will travel together, Rose at the center. The going will be steep; the Doctor disappears into the TARDIS and comes out with a set of crutches Rose can use, better to keep her stable as she walks up through the rocky tunnels. They will go up through the catacombs, up until they reach the Byzantium.

The first part of the plan is executed perfectly. They make it through the cave, to the top of the catacombs.

The problem, of course, is that the ship is still a good thirty feet up.

It’s the Doctor who figures it out, of course: the ship is still a good thirty feet up, but the artificial gravity is still on. A gunshot, a jump, and they’re on the ship. It’s a harrowing few minutes as they break into it, running through the corridors, and then—

There’s a crack.

It almost sends Rose tumbling to the ground: the Doctor holds her, keeps her upright.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he says.

“You don’t say,” River replies.

“The angel—” Rose says. “The angel in the ship. We’ve still got to find it.”

“Forget about the angel,” the Doctor says. “This crack— a crack in reality—” He shakes his head. “We’re going to go back to the TARDIS, and I’m going to get everyone out of here. And then we’re going to work out what’s going on with these cracks.”

“No need,” Rose says, her voice hollow. “I know what it is. It’s the reality bomb.”

The Doctor leads the group back to the TARDIS. The soldiers are appropriately amazed; they marvel at the dimensional engineering as Amy and Rory hang at the edge of the room. The second Rose enters, she falls to the floor, and the Doctor goes with her; it’s River, then, who pilots the TARDIS, brings the soldiers home. By the time they leave the TARDIS, Rose is standing again, leaning heavily on the crutches.

“I’ve got to get back to my university,” River says, although her relaxed tone doesn’t make it sound like she’s in any kind of rush.

“We can take you,” Rose says. “Or, suppose you can take yourself, considering you’re better at piloting this thing than the Doctor.”

The Doctor bumps an arm against hers. “Oi, I resent that.”

River smiles at Rose. “Thanks, love.”

Rose flushes.

“Will we ever find out how we met?” the Doctor asks, his eyes fixed on River.

“You know,” River replies, “I’ve often wondered the same thing.”

They take River home. She waltzes off the TARDIS, blowing kisses to the Doctor and Rose as she goes.

“Who was that?” Amy asks.

“I hope we find out,” the Doctor says, still staring after her.

Rose lies curled up in bed, the Doctor holding her, brushing his hands through her hair. zshe’s still thinking about the cracks in the universe— the reality bomb, the dimension cannon, the consequences of taking a hole that was already there and making it bigger.

“How could I do that?” she whispers. “I knew it would hurt the universe, punching holes like that.”

“It’s not all on you, you know,” the Doctor replies, his voice low and steady. “Surely the Daleks are more to blame.”

Rose closes her eyes. “I should’ve known better.”

The Doctor’s thumb brushes across her cheek. “Look at me,” he says.

Rose rolls over, meeting his eyes.

“We’re going to fix it,” he tells her. “We’re going to find the cause, and we’re going to close the cracks.” He draws Rose closer, burying his face in her hair. His body curls around her, surrounding her. “You were right to do what you did,” he says. “Intelligent, and brave, and— and I would’ve given anything to see you again.”

Rose buries her head in his chest.

“I don’t feel intelligent and brave.” It comes out a muffled mumble.

“Rose Tyler.” The Doctor kisses the top of her head. “You are. I'm not sure anyone else in the universe could've done what you did.”

Rose curls further into the Doctor. “But that's worse! If it is my fault, that's worse.”

He threads a hand through her hair. “It's not,” he says. “You wouldn't have been able to come through if it weren't for the Daleks.” He pauses. “And we’ll fix it. It’s what we do.”

“I just don’t want people to get hurt,” Rose mumbles.

The Doctor presses his lips against her hair. “We’re going to fix it,” he says again.

They’re tracking down a crack on the moon. It’s the 52nd century, and the crack is somewhere on the campus of Luna University: Rose can feel it nearby, but she isn’t sure exactly where. They’ve just stepped out of the TARDIS and onto the terraformed grass when a mass of blonde hair comes careening towards them.

“River!” the Doctor exclaims.

She stops in her tracks, her eyes blank. “What?”

Rose tugs at the Doctor’s hand. “Not yet,” she whispers.

“Oh.” The Doctor flounders.

“It doesn’t matter,” River says. “I need to make use of that box.” She nods at the TARDIS.

The Doctor looks back. “The— what?”

“I’ve gotten into a bit of trouble,” River says, her voice urgent, “and I happen to know that box can take me very far away.”

“Well, I suppose—”

“It can,” Rose says. “Get inside.” She gives the Doctor a look. Helpless, he follows Rose and River as they enter the TARDIS.

When River enters, a smile blooms on her face. The room brightens.

“It really is bigger on the inside,” she murmurs, to Rose’s and the Doctor’s absolute confusion.

“How’d you know that?” Rose asks. “And what did you mean, gotten into a bit of trouble?”

River waves a hand. “I graduated yesterday.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Rose is frowning now, looking at River like a puzzle she’s trying to solve.

“Luna University will let you take out a loan to attend,” River says, “but they request payment the day you leave. People spend years studying, just to avoid the debt collectors.”

Rose raises her eyebrows. “And you didn’t?”

“Oh, I did,” River says. “Racked up quite the debt.” She smiles. “They’re after me for what I did when they came to collect it.”

“If I ask you what you did,” Rose says, “am I going to regret it?”

River winks. “Most likely. Thanks for the use of your box. Might’ve saved me a prison sentence.”

“Doubtful,” the Doctor says.

River steps towards the console. “Your ship is beautiful, by the way. I never expected it to be like this.”

“Most people don’t.” Rose approaches the console, running a hand over its side. She looks up at the domed ceiling with a little smile. “Suppose we should get going, if we’re going to save you a prison sentence.” She glances at the Doctor. “You going to help?”

Together, they launch the TARDIS into the vortex. Rose glances at River. “You got anywhere in particular you’re trying to go?”

“Oh, anywhere will do,” River says. She’s staring at the central column, which glows blue on Rose’s and the Doctor’s faces.

“Right,” Rose says. “I vote chips.”

“You always vote chips,” the Doctor protests, but he’s smiling.

Rose shrugs. “What can I say? I like chips.”

They land on Earth in 2039, right down the street from a chippy.

“It really does move in time and space,” River marvels as she steps out onto the street.

“While we eat,” Rose says, “you’re going to explain to us how you know all that.”

They sit down in a booth, each with a basket of greasy chips. Rose does not, technically speaking, need to eat; her body gets its energy from the vortex, and there’s no short supply. In fact, food will often make her illness worse: she’s become intolerant to everything . Sometimes, though, she finds it worth the risk. Especially when chips are involved.

“Right,” Rose says. “How’d you know the TARDIS?”

River looks at her, delight in her eyes. “I did my dissertation on you.”

“On—” Rose frowns. “Why me?”

River laughs. “Do you even have to ask? Mysterious seemingly-immortal shapeshifter, traveling time and space in a ship that looks like a centuries-old Earthen police box?”

Now it’s Rose’s turn to laugh. She falls against the Doctor’s side, unable to restrain herself. “She thinks I’m you !” she exclaims.

“She— what?”

“You froze up,” Rose says to him. “You froze up, and you let me ask all the questions, and now I sound like you .”

“So you’re not the Doctor,” River says.

Rose shakes her head. She jabs a thumb at the Doctor. “He’s the Doctor. I just hitched a ride.”

“Did a lot more than that,” the Doctor says. He’s got the little grin he always gets with Rose. “Hitched a ride, bonded with my spaceship, invited yourself along for the rest of time.”

“Didn’t see you arguing,” Rose replies, grinning.

“Hang on,” River says. “I know this one. Blonde, often seen with the Doctor, especially after the ninth body—”

“You really did do your dissertation on me,” the Doctor says.

“Rose Tyler.”

“Right in one,” Rose says.

“Right.” River drags the word out like it’s a full sentence. “Which leaves me with only one question.” She glances at the Doctor. “How did you know my name?”

“How did I— what?”

“You said my name,” River says, staring him down. “When you saw me. Have we met?”

“We don’t always live our lives in order,” Rose says. “We’ve met you before.”

River’s eyebrows shoot up. “You have?”

“A future version of you,” the Doctor says. “We can’t tell you the details.”

“Which evens out,” Rose adds, biting into a chip, “‘cause if you really have done your thesis on him, there’s probably loads from his future you can’t tell us, either.” Although there’s a lot that Rose already knows, whether or not she’s aware of it. The timelines furl out for her much the same as they do for the TARDIS; she’s still learning what that means.

“That’s a reasonable assumption,” River says.

They take River on a few adventures. Eventually, they pick up Amy and Rory, and the five of them travel: River turns out to be an excellent travel companion, although a bit quick to resort to violence as a means to get what she wants. It’s useful, sometimes, as much as the Doctor and Rose don’t want to admit it.

River tells them about her time at university. She describes her first day, taking the shuttle from Earth— she grew up in foster care, she explains, except when she’d run away. She describes her graduation, a beautiful ceremony cut short by the sudden and inevitable presence of debt collectors.

“But I prepared for that one,” she smirks.

And then the Doctor notices a discrepancy.

“How many years did you spend in university?” he asks. They’re sitting in the TARDIS library, Rose and the Doctor curled up on a sofa, River reading in an armchair.

River looks up with a shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. How many is usual? Ten?”

The Doctor shakes his head. “You said you’d splurged on the new luggage compression technology for your trip there,” he says. “That was invented in 5104. We picked you up in 5138.”

“I just went until they got tired of me and kicked me out,” River said. “You’d be surprised how long one can drag out a dissertation.”

Rose leans forward. “River,” she says. “Have you seen any odd cracks anywhere? Maybe with light spilling out?”

“Ugh.” River rolls her eyes. “There was one in my ceiling all the time I was at the university. I must’ve made a million complaints, and somehow they never fixed it.”

“Right.” Rose glances at the Doctor. “Her timeline is long, Doctor. Longer than most humans’.”

The Doctor’s eyes widen.

“What does that mean?” River asks.

Rose takes a deep breath. “Did I ever explain what happened to me?”

“I believe the words the Doctor used were ‘bonded with my spaceship,’” River says.

“Suppose that’s pretty much it,” Rose admits. She shrugs. “Basically, the Doctor knew he was about to die, tried to send me away, and I wound up opening up the TARDIS and looking right at it so I could go and save him. Turns out, if you look into the heart of the TARDIS and use it to save your friends, it gives you a certain connection to the ship.” She pauses. “But what I’m trying to say is, I’ve got a better perception of time than most people. I can see timelines. I’m still learning how to use all the information I’ve got, but I can tell you that your timeline is longer than it should be. You’re human, right?”

“Yeah.”

Rose nods. “Should have a hundred years, maximum. Maybe a hundred twenty, by your century. Not sure. But you’ve got— longer.”

“How much longer?” River asks, the words coming out slowly.

“I don’t know for sure,” Rose says. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Timelines aren’t fixed until you live them, but if you know what happens it can get messy.”

“Knowing something is going to happen can fix it,” the Doctor adds. “But I think we’ve got a bigger problem.”

“What’s that?” River asks.

“The crack.” The Doctor fiddles with his sonic, passing it from hand to hand. “We’re no closer to finding a way to patch up the universe.”

River looks at him quizzically, and so he and Rose have to explain the cracks— what they are, where they came from. They tell the story in turns, Rose explaining the dimension cannon, the Doctor describing what happened when he regenerated.

“I thought the universe would heal on its own,” the Doctor says. “Once we got rid of the threat.”

“Maybe it can’t,” River replies. “Maybe something’s preventing it.”

Rose and the Doctor immediately jump into motion. They run to the console room, River on their heels.

“Doctor, if I can get close to the crack, maybe I can figure out what’s going on.” Rose is staring at a monitor, letting the shape of the universe settle in her mind.

“No,” the Doctor says. He’s running around the console, hitting buttons, throwing levers. “We can’t risk it. Rose, if you fall through that crack—”

“I won’t,” Rose says. “The TARDIS will tether me. I’ll hold on to something. We’ll tie it to the console. If I fall through, I’ll come back.”

“Rose, you can’t—” The Doctor cuts himself off. He swallows. When he speaks again, it’s through the beginning of tears. “I can’t lose you again.”

Rose pulls him down by his bowtie, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“You won’t,” she says. “But— we’ve got a problem, and I can help solve it.”

“I’ll go with you,” River says.

“You—” The Doctor shakes his head. “No. You can’t both go.”

“It makes sense,” River insists. “If I was exposed to that crack for years, I’ve got to have some sort of immunity, haven’t I?”

“We don’t know how it works,” the Doctor says. “There’s no evidence—”

“We can’t ask you to risk your life,” Rose says.

“Why not?” River challenges, eyebrows raised. “You’re risking yours.”

Rose looks away. “That’s different.”

“I don’t see how,” River says.

“So you’ve both got a death wish, then,” the Doctor mutters.

“Two people will be better than one,” River insists. “Rose can see what’s going on, and I’ll make sure she gets out. And Doctor, you can anchor us from inside the TARDIS.”

The Doctor sighs. “I’m not going to talk you two out of this, am I?”

River shakes her head. “Not a chance.”

“I’m going in,” Rose agrees. “And if River wants to come, I don’t think I can stop her.”

“Suppose it’s settled then,” the Doctor says, pulling a face. “We’d better find a crack.”

They wind up in Amy’s house again, in the empty room. Amy isn’t living there anymore: she’s moved into Rory’s place, now that they’re married. But Amy hasn’t sold the house— apparently, no one wants to buy.

Perhaps the gaping hole in the fabric of spacetime is part of the reason.

They park the TARDIS in the empty room. River and Rose are in harnesses, hooked up to a rope that loops around the time rotor: the Doctor is at the console, looking distinctly unhappy.

“You’d better come back to me,” he says, adjusting the straps on Rose’s harness.

“I always do,” Rose replies, but there’s something nervous behind her eyes.

He gives River a look. “You too.”

She gives him a lazy salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

River and Rose approach the crack. Light pours out, bathing them both. Rose closes her eyes.

“It wants to close,” she says. “The universe doesn’t want to be broken open like this.”

“What’s stopping it?” River asks.

Rose reaches out a hand, letting her fingers dance in the white light.

“Not sure,” she says. “Feels like—” She closes her eyes. “Feels like when I would jump through the dimensions.” The words come out a revelation: she has not spent much time reflecting on her dimension hops, and certainly not since becoming aware of her relationship to time. “Feels—”

Suddenly, without warning, she sticks her hand in the crack. The TARDIS shudders—

This is one of those points where the timelines break. There are too many possibilities— too many odds—

Rose Tyler falls into the crack.

River Song goes with her.

For a moment, half a moment, the Doctor’s memory flickers.

Rose and River return. Rose is clutching something in her fist.

The crack closes behind them. It’s as if it was never there.

“Did we do it?” Rose asks, jubilant.

“I don’t know!” River’s tone is incredulous, baffled.

Rose opens her hand, revealing a bit of metal circuitry. “I think this is it. A bit of the reality bomb, stuck in the cracks. I think we did it.”

River pulls Rose into a hug, and in her excitement, Rose kisses River, full on the mouth. It’s quick, over in a second, and then they fall away from each other, dazed, grinning.

“C’mon,” Rose says.

She and River stumble into the TARDIS just as the Doctor is starting to stumble out. He wraps his arms around them both, and they each fall into him— they manage a few seconds’ hug before Rose completes the fall by crumbling to the ground.

“Rose!” The Doctor kneels by her side. “Are you all right?”

Rose lies on her back, eyes halfway to closing. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, I think so. Just—” She waves a limp hand. “Being out there. Takes it out of me.”

The Doctor glances at River. “How about you? Are you all right?”

“Never better.”

“Good.” The Doctor spares a moment to relief, and then— “Can you help me carry her?”

River nods. “Where to?”

“Her room,” the Doctor decides. “Nowhere better to recover, I’d say.”

He and River position themselves on either side of Rose, each of her arms slung over one of their shoulders. They hoist her into the air.

The TARDIS, ever benevolent, has a tendency to move Rose’s room nearer to the console room on days like these. It doesn’t take long for River and the Doctor to get a semi-conscious Rose to her room; they lay her on the bed, and the Doctor eases her jacket off her shoulders as River takes her shoes off her feet, leaving her in her T-shirt, blue jeans, and socks. The Doctor sits next to her on the mattress, smoothing down her hair, and she looks tiredly up at him.

“D’you want us to stay?” he asks. “Or just me, or just River?” River’s watching from her position halfway to the door; her face is marred with uncertainty.

“Yeah,” Rose says. “Both of you, if you want.” She manages a weak smile. “It’s no fun being like this on my own.”

“Can’t imagine it’s that much more fun with me here,” the Doctor says. But he sheds his shoes and coat and braces and shirt, keeping just his T-shirt and trousers, and he tucks his legs under the covers, settling in next to Rose.

River takes a step closer. “Do I—”

“If you’d like,” the Doctor says.

After another moment’s hesitation, River kicks off her shoes.

“All right, then.”

Rose drifts in and out of sleep. Her head is in the Doctor’s lap; he lets his hand run through her hair in soothing strokes.

“You know,” River says quietly, during one of the moments Rose is asleep, “your girlfriend kissed me.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, strictly speaking,” the Doctor says. “Or— well— suppose she is, by most definitions. But we’ve never defined it. She’s free to kiss who she likes.” There’s half a smile on his face. “It’s not exclusive, what we have. She knows I love her, and I know she loves me, no matter who else gets involved.”

River nods. She hesitates. “You said you’d met me before,” she says. “In my future.”

“Out of order,” the Doctor says. “Yes.”

River glances down at Rose, still asleep. “Were we—”

The Doctor shakes his head. “Spoilers,” he says, his voice low.

It takes Rose a few days to recover. River sticks around, and when Rose is well enough to travel, the three of them go to Paris in 2931, just after the Eiffel Tower has been put on levitating ground. They sit in its shadow at a sidewalk cafe, talking and laughing together. They’re not far from the TARDIS: Rose isn’t up for that much walking, even with her crutches. But they’ve strayed enough that it feels like a proper trip, and now they’ve got croissants and coffee— or hot chocolate, in the Doctor’s case.

“Suppose I’d better go do my prison sentence,” River muses.

“Why?” the Doctor asks. “Not to be too forward, but… you’re welcome to stay in the TARDIS.”

“Oh, I have aspirations,” River says. “If I serve out my sentence, eventually I’ve got a shot at being a professor. Besides, prison won’t hold me long.” She holds up her wrist, which sports a vortex manipulator. “I’ve got this.”

“Where’d you get that?” Rose asks.

River grins. “From the TARDIS. When you weren’t looking.”

“Put it to good use,” the Doctor says.

River’s grin only grows.

They see River again, of course. Over and over. Sometimes she breaks out of prison and shows up on their doorstep; sometimes they break into prison and show up on hers. Amy and Rory are with them more often than not; they and River become fast friends. They’re a sort of a family, if a family is five people collected throughout time and space, ages twenty-three through one thousand, with varying relationships to the spacetime continuum itself. It’s not always all five of them: Amy and Rory have jobs, and River has a prison sentence, of course. But it’s always the Doctor and Rose, and usually they’re accompanied.

Until Manhattan.

The second they land, something is wrong. The temporal displacement— it’s exactly like it was with the angels, but larger. Massive.

So massive that the TARDIS is barely able to track the timelines. So massive that Rose nearly collapses the minute she tries to leave the TARDIS, bowled over by the sheer volume.

“They’ve learned,” the Doctor murmurs, ominous.

“What do we do?” River asks.

“What we can.”

Rose is out of commission early on. Things are chaotic: the timelines are broken apart, put back together, mutated. Amy and Rory jump off a building— and they survive—

Until they don’t.

Until the Doctor and River are standing in a graveyard, staring at Amy’s and Rory’s names.

Until Rose stumbles out of the TARDIS and into a fundamentally different universe.

They don’t see much of River, after that. She says she needs a break— says it’s become too much for her. The Doctor and Rose visit her at the university once or twice, but she’s distant; it’s not the same.

The next time they see her, the last time, the Doctor is in a new body, and Rose has changed too: her connection to the TARDIS, to time, has given her an odd air of incongruity when perceived in three dimensions. Her reactions come too slow, sometimes, and other times too fast; she’ll communicate in sentences missing context, often incomprehensible to all but the Doctor. He translates for her, explains what she means. Not that he’s all that comprehensible himself, this time around.

It’s Nardole who comes to fetch the Doctor. The Doctor does not know Nardole yet, but he will soon— short, round, bald head covered by a knit hat.

He knocks on the TARDIS door.

The Doctor opens it.

He’s wearing felt antlers.

There’s a brief exchange, and then the Doctor slams the door shut.

“Rose!” he says, directing his words to where she lies on her back underneath the console, fiddling with the wiring at its base. “I told you, I’m not interested in Christmas cheer.”

Rose smiles. She gets up and approaches him, plucking the antlers off his head.

“It’s going to be a good one,” she says.

The Doctor smiles at her, his biggest, most special smile. She kisses him on the nose, and then he turns back around to open the door.

“Are you the surgeon?” Nardole asks.

“Yes,” the Doctor says. “Close enough.” He grabs Rose’s arm, pulls her into the doorway. “And this is my— co-surgeon.”

“Partner,” Rose suggests.

“Partner,” the Doctor repeats. “We work together. As surgeons.”

Rose tugs at his arm. Gestures back at the console. She’s been trying to rewire the TARDIS to dispense her favorite biscuits— the work is not urgent, but now she’s started, it happens to be somewhat time-sensitive.

“Usually,” the Doctor amends. “Right now, she’s busy.”

“Right,” Nardole says. “Well, there’s a medical emergency.”

“Will there be singing?” the Doctor asks.

“Oi,” Rose says, before he’s finished speaking. “What’s wrong with singing?”

He gives her a look that tries for annoyed but only achieves devastatingly fond.

“Lead the way,” he says to Nardole.

River Song does not recognize the Doctor.

She’s looking for him, but when he’s there, she doesn’t see him— she’s fixated on her list, the twelve faces he can have, the proximity to Rose. He tries to tell her, but she’s not expecting him, and so she doesn’t pick up on it, and finally he goes along with it, smiling a little too wide as he does.

And then River is leading him to the TARDIS.

The TARDIS, where Rose is just finishing her work— she’s just rolled out from under the console when River comes in. Her timing is perfect; Rose’s timing often is. She leans on her cane and looks to the door, waiting for it to open.

River comes through seconds later. When she sees Rose, she freezes. For a moment, neither of them say a word: and then Rose smiles, and River steps closer. She takes Rose’s free hand, and Rose’s smile grows.

“It’s good to see you,” River says, her voice low.

“You too.” Rose sounds exhilarated.

River kisses her.

Behind River, the Doctor enters the TARDIS.

“Oh, my God!” he shouts, and River and Rose break apart. As he continues to marvel at the TARDIS’s interior, Rose’s face flashes through confusion before landing on mirth. Finally, he seems to see River and Rose, and he does a comical double take. “Sorry. Was I interrupting something?”

Rose has held back her laughter thus far, but now it bursts forth. She falls against the console.

“What’s so funny?” River asks.

“Doctor,” Rose says. “How long were you going to keep that up?”

The Doctor spreads his hands. “As long as it took for someone to call me on it.”

River stares at him. “You’re—”

The Doctor grins back at her, like he’s just done a magic trick. In a way, he has.

“I thought you were out of lives,” River says.

“I was,” the Doctor replies. “A thing happened.”

River grins. “I bet it did.”

Many more things happen, as a matter of fact. And as they happen, it becomes rapidly more and more apparent that this is the last time the Doctor, Rose, and River will all be in the same space— River’s diary is almost full. They pass over Darillium. Until finally, River is knocked out on the floor of the TARDIS, and the Doctor and Rose stand in front of the singing towers, looking at each other with sorrow in their eyes.

The Doctor presses the Halassi Androvar into a bystander’s hand. “They should build a restaurant here,” he says.

Fourteen years later, River exits the TARDIS to see the Doctor and Rose, waiting for her.

They spend a beautiful night together.

It lasts twenty-four years.

Afterwards, the Doctor and Rose decide to stay in one place for a while. A university. The Doctor teaches— well, it’s not entirely clear. Physics, probably. But physics encompasses so many other subjects, especially when the Doctor gets to decide.

Rose teaches painting. It’s a hobby of hers, and after all the years she’s been alive, she’s good at her hobbies. She describes a painting to her students as a series of moments in time, spread across a canvas— the moments laid bare for anyone to see and interpret, even as the canvas ages.

Her students universally agree that she’s mad. But they also learn quite a lot, as it turns out.

They make friends. Travel. Lose their friends horribly, and then the Doctor regenerates.

Rose is stuck in the TARDIS again. She’s stuck, and she’s stuck in a loop. She was thrown to the back as the Doctor regenerated, and then he— she, although Rose doesn’t know it yet— fell out, and then Rose started clambering to the console. She relives these moments again and again as the TARDIS fades in and out of existence on Desolation.

Until the TARDIS fades back in.

The console room is different now, all shiny chrome and crystals. The TARDIS has given Rose a new cane, too, as has been its habit; it’s copper to match the new interior, with the same blue handle. She pushes herself to her feet, still wobbly, and takes a few slow steps towards the door.

She doesn’t get far, of course, before the door cracks open, and the Doctor stumbles in, staring in awe at the redecorated console room. The Doctor is immediately absorbed in the space, the saturated lighting, the glowing crystal central crystal.

And Rose is absorbed in the Doctor.

She looks new— a blonde bob, wide and wondering eyes. She’s closer to Rose’s height than she’s ever been, too. And she’s got new clothes already: trousers that show her ankles, a striped T-shirt, a gray jacket.

She’s every inch the Doctor.

And then her awe breaks, and she turns to Rose.

“Rose!” she cries, and flings herself at her. Rose wraps her arms around the Doctor’s neck, her cane dangling off one hand: the Doctor, as always, holds her up.

Meanwhile, three people have entered the TARDIS. The Doctor’s new friends.

“Whoa,” one of them says.

The Doctor pulls away from Rose, her hands still on Rose’s shoulders. “I’ve got some people I’d like you to meet.”

Later, when they’re all sitting around, taking a break somewhere in between their first and fifteenth attempt at making it back to Sheffield, Yaz looks at Rose.

“You know, she didn’t stop talking about you for a second, back when she was looking for her ship. Didn’t even know her own name, but she knew yours.”

Rose glances at the Doctor, talking to Graham across the room as she shoves custard creams whole into her mouth.

“We’ve been together a long time,” she says.

“How’d you meet?” Yaz asks.

It’s 2005. Rose Tyler is just getting off work. She goes down to the basement to deliver lottery money. The mannequins come alive.

A strange man grabs her hand. Pulls her away.

"Run."

4 notes · View notes

regenderate-fic · 1 year

Text

Coming Home (Everything is New)

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: Mature Ships: River Song/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/River Song, Eleventh Doctor/River Song/Rose Tyler Characters: Rose Tyler, River Song, Eleventh Doctor Word Count: 3,973 Other Tags: Reunions, Dimension Cannon, Bad Wolf Rose, Vandalism, Polyamory

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Summary: Finally, Rose is back in the right universe. She's about to start looking for the Doctor-- but River Song finds her first.

NOTES: esther found out how fast i write during nanowrimo and was like why aren't you writing riverrose that fast and i was like uhhh because writing that fast for nanowrimo has resulted in like 22k of woolgathering and navelgazing about grief and sibling relationships in greek tragedy and then he was like i think riverrose would be good for rambling like that and i was like. okay. so anyway i counted this towards nanowrimo and i also wrote it very fast. you're welcome esther.

There was nothing.

And then there was Rose.

She’d spent the last year hopping between the universes, one after another, trying to find the one that held the Doctor.

Her Doctor.

She’d know it when she saw it, she thought: she was sure. She’d learned to feel out the differences between the universes, which one fizzed on her tongue like champagne, which one smelled just a little bit like old socks. She’d learned that some were familiar; others, less so. She hadn’t been back in her universe, the right one, in over a hundred years, but she was sure it would still feel familiar, even if she didn’t remember what it tasted like.

She’d know it when she saw it, and— she opened her eyes. She was on a busy street. She’d left London, in the parallel universe, and she was still in London, and a London that read to her very much as London, in the 21st century, and the people around her were using mobiles and driving cars, which was an encouraging sign.

She took a deep breath.

Yes.

This was it. She’d never smelled this before— the worn-in leather and fresh grass. The comfortable, the familiar, and the new, all rolled into one. Her time senses hadn’t fully developed, the last time she was here. But she was here. She felt it, rolling through her, deep in her bones: this was the universe she’d been born in, the universe she’d spent her first nineteen years stuck, and the next two completely free.

She let out a laugh, giddy, relieved. This was it. Now all she had to do was find the Doctor.

She raised her phone to her ear. “Hello? Control?”

“Rose?” It was Henri, on the other end of the line: a nice girl, young, a new recruit. She was no Clive, no Pete, and certainly no Jackie, but she got the job done. Quickly, efficiently, and well, as a matter of fact: there was a reason Torchwood had hired her. “What can you see?”

“I’m back,” Rose said, the words coming out on a reverent breath. “It’s— it’s the right universe.”

“Excellent,” Henri said. “The dimension cannon will recharge in twelve hours. If you hit any trouble in that time, call and I’ll bring you right back.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Rose breathed. She stared at the sky: the bright blue sky, shining down on her. The sky in the other universe had been a little closer to purple, just slightly, just enough that Rose had always looked up at it and known that something wasn’t quite right. “Thank you, Henri. Tell everyone at Torchwood. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least we could do for you,” Henri said. “After all you’ve done for us.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” Rose replied.

“All right, then,” Henri said. “You’ve got a mission. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Goodbye, Henri.” Rose snapped her phone shut, and then she looked around, getting her bearings. This London and the parallel London had mostly been laid out the same way, but the shops and some of the street names had all been different. Rose looked around, trying to map what she was seeing now onto her map of the parallel London, onto her vaguest memories of what it had been like to live here. She’d done her jump from just outside Torchwood, and sure enough, now she was next to Canary Wharf. From here, she could go to the Powell Estate— but she didn’t think she was likely to find the Doctor there, not after he’d lost her. She could go looking for him: he was bound to show up eventually, considering the whole time-and-space travel situation. Or she could find UNIT or Torchwood, if either still existed, and ask them if they had any means of finding him.

And then she remembered. Jack. She’d missed Jack. She’d barely seen Jack, the last time she was in this universe, before she’d been dropped back on Bad Wolf Bay. He’d be around, somewhere in the universe, and she could find his number, she was sure, and he’d be thrilled to hear from her, and he probably had a vortex manipulator or something.

Right. She would ask Jack. But first— well, she was back in her home London. This was the sort of thing that required celebration.

This was the sort of thing that required— no, demanded— this was the sort of thing that demanded chips.

She walked down the street. She could go to her old favorite chippy, the one around the corner from the Powell Estate— but no, what if it wasn’t there anymore? What if it was different? What if the chips weren’t good anymore? She couldn’t bear that. No, she would have to find a new place. And she would have to find it the old fashioned way, by wandering around London until something caught her eye.

So she began her wandering. She passed fast food chains— banks— supermarkets— everything the people needed to keep their lives running, to keep themselves going in the 22nd century.

Everything except chips. Had all the chippies in London closed up shop, in the last hundred years? Now that was a universe Rose didn’t want to live in. Or maybe she just wasn’t looking right— maybe—

Something caught her eye.

Not a chippy. Unfortunately. Just a woman— or, more accurately, a place where there hadn’t been a woman, but now there was. She was looking around, looking like she was looking for something. A quick scan of her body revealed a cloud of blonde hair— a dress with a shockingly low neckline, compared to the century’s other passersby— and— yes. A chunky black vortex manipulator on her wrist.

“Cheap and nasty time travel,” Rose murmured, and not quietly enough. Immediately, the woman’s eyes locked onto her, and she strode towards Rose with purpose. There was a focus in her eyes, the kind of focus Rose recognized— the kind of focus that hit her every time she looked in the mirror.

The woman looked her up and down. Rose stared back, trying to see past the woman’s delicately composed expression, trying to understand what was going on. Finally, their eyes met, and once again, Rose saw something familiar in the woman’s eyes: a spark of… interest, perhaps. Curiosity. It reminded Rose, somehow, of the Doctor.

“And who are you?” the woman asked. Her voice was low and smooth, bordering on seductive. Rose generally thought herself difficult to seduce, considering her single-minded focus on the Doctor, but she found herself flushing, just a little.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The woman raised her eyebrows. “I believe I asked first.”

Rose sighed. “All right, then. Suppose you can call me Bad Wolf.”

To Rose’s surprise, the woman laughed, her head thrown back. “Now what sort of a name is that?”

“The sort of name I give a strange time traveler I meet on the street,” Rose said.

“Right,” the woman said. “In that case, you might as well call me Melody.”

“Melody,” Rose repeated. “Pretty.” She nodded down at Melody’s wrist. “Where’d you get that, Melody?”

“Why?” Melody asked, borderline purred. “Are you in the market?”

“Suppose I am.” Rose raised her eyebrows. “Are you selling?”

Melody looked at her wrist, tilted it this way and that. “No,” she said. “This thing’s gotten me through too much.”

“That’s all right,” Rose said with a sigh. “I don’t know where I need to go, anyway.” She looked at Melody, tilting her head. “I don’t suppose you know a man called the Doctor.”

Melody stilled. For a moment she was very quiet— and then, just above a whisper, she said, “I think we’re past the point of code names, Bad Wolf.” She stuck out her hand. Full voice, she said, “River Song. Archaeologist.”

Rose gasped. River— she knew that name. Her husband— the metacrisis— had told her about River. In passing, yes, in confusion, yes, but still. Rose had heard of River Song.

“In that case,” Rose said, fitting her hand into River’s, giving it a shake, “I’m Rose Tyler.”

River’s gasp mirrored Rose’s. “No way. I thought you were in another universe.”

Rose tilted her head further, half a grin on her face. “I came back.” An electric warmth was surging in her stomach at the thought that this woman had a connection to the Doctor, at the thought that Rose might see the Doctor soon. Some of that warmth, maybe, was passing between their hands, a friendly spark.

River’s eyes darted down to the yellow button around Rose’s neck, the travel disc: the part of the dimension cannon that allowed her to maintain a connection to the other universe, no matter where she went.

“I can see that,” River said. She still hadn’t let go of Rose’s hand: in fact, she seemed dedicated to keeping their hands connected, their skin in contact. “It seems, Rose Tyler, like we might have a lot to talk about.”

They did find a chippy, after that: it turned out Rose had only been half a block away from one, and if she hadn’t seen River, she would’ve found the chippy in another moment. Still, she thought, biting the end off a perfectly crispy chip, she was glad for the delay.

“I don’t even know what to ask,” she said, staring at River across the table. “I mean— you and the Doctor—“

“It’s complicated,” River said, a smile flickering behind her eyes. “I’d tell you how we met, but it would take days.”

“That’s all right,” Rose replied. “I don’t really need to know.” She shrugged. “It’s after my time, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it’s right in the middle, from where I’m standing.” River raised her eyebrows. “Were you looking for the Doctor?”

“Yeah, but— I mean— if he’s with you— I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, you’d hardly be intruding.” River’s smile might have been menacing in any other context, but here it was enthralling, thrilling.

“Well,” Rose said, poking at a chip in the basket with one in her hand. “If that’s the case, who am I to stay away?”

“That’s the spirit.” River grinned. “I haven’t got the Doctor’s contact information.”

For just a moment, Rose’s heart sank.

“But,” River continued, “I’ve gotten very good at getting his attention.”

And Rose laughed. “You’ll have to show me how it’s done.”

“Rose Tyler.” River’s eyes were focused so entirely on Rose, never wavering, never turning away. “It would be my pleasure.”

That was how, an hour later, Rose wound up at the top of Big Ben, decked out in climbing gear and staring from just above the clock face at the city below.

“You know, this was one of my first adventures with the Doctor,” she said. “Spaceship flying into Big Ben. Turned out to be a big hoax to distract from the real aliens infiltrating the government.”

“Oh, the Slitheen?” River asked. “I remember reading about that. ‘Course, the Doctor would never really talk about it. That man.”

“He’s not exactly an open book,” Rose agreed. Of course, she wasn’t either, after all these years.

“All right,” River said, leaning close enough to Rose that Rose could smell the mint on her breath. “Are you ready?”

Rose took a deep breath. “When you are.”

“Excellent.” River jumped out the window. Rose followed, her climbing harness catching her: River tossed her a can of spray paint, and Rose caught it.

“What do I write?” she asked, yelling over the wind.

“That’s up to you,” River yelled back. “If you want to write anything at all. Maybe you’d rather keep yourself a surprise.” She winked, exaggerating the motion to be visible at a distance. “After all, you know he’ll come when I call.”

Rose laughed. The air carried the sound away over the city. “I like you, River Song!” she called back. The way River was— it reminded Rose of the Doctor, it did, but it also had an edge to it, a certain subtext that the Doctor had never seemed quite capable of. He could do dangerous, sure, he could do risk, he could even do seductive, if he wanted to. And he had, plenty of times. But he’d always had rules, and he’d always stuck to them, whether Rose had known it or not. Her husband had told her, years into their marriage, that his original self never would’ve acted on his feelings: no, that was one of his rules.

River didn’t seem so bound by rules. The Doctor never would have dared interfere with such a famous landmark as Big Ben, not unless it was truly life or death. He took history so seriously there was barely any wiggle room, sometimes. Whereas River seemed to see it as something to make her mark on, a canvas to paint.

Right now, she was painting the words, Hello, sweetie, in massive red letters on the clock face. Rose marveled at how big the letters had to be to be at all visible: from far away, the clock face looked small, like barely anything, but from where she hung now, she could see it was several times her height. She watched River, her hair escaping its ponytail, grinning as she finished off the lettering. Rose hefted the spray paint can in her hand, feeling the cool metal against her skin, trying to decide what— if anything— she wanted to write. Bad Wolf would’ve been the obvious option, of course. But… maybe that was too obvious. After so much time away… she sort of liked the idea of being a surprise. If she wrote Bad Wolf, he’d know to expect her. And given he was already expecting River… there wasn’t much Rose would have to do to grab his attention.

Finally, she decided on, XOXO, next to a messy heart. That would do: it would look like it came from River, but Rose knew it came from her. Maybe the Doctor would know, too..

“That’s it?” River asked, watching Rose tuck the can into the pocket of her jacket.

“Riding your coattails,” Rose called back. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” River shook her head. “Never.”

There was no need to talk further. Together, wordless, they pulled themselves up to the windows— just in time to hear an alarm sounding. Of course: they’d been noticed.

Rose and River exchanged a look. It was far from the first time Rose had been in a situation like this, and if she was lucky, it would be far from the last.

She pointed at the ground, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head at River, asking a question. River nodded, answering it. Rose held up three fingers— two— one— and when she closed her fist, she began to fall, River alongside her, screaming at terminal velocity until they stopped themselves a mere few feet above the ground. The police were converging on them, of course: Rose hit the ground and unclipped her harness, her hair whipping in her face as she looked around for River. And then, in a second, River was at her side, grabbing her hand, pulling her along, and they were running, darting away from the police, through the streets of London, until finally River pulled open a door and Rose tumbled inside after her, both of them breathing heavily, hands on each other’s shoulders.

“You okay?” Rose asked, looking River up and down. She looked okay— in fact, she looked breathtaking, her hair fallen completely out of its ponytail by now, her eyes betraying her complete exhilaration.

“Never better. You?”

Rose felt herself grinning, felt the grin expanding to fill her whole face, bigger and brighter than it had been in years. “Same.” She looked around, taking in the store they’d run into: it was a used bookstore, shelves towering to the ceiling, stuffed to the brim with raggedy and mismatched books. There was no one at the front desk: instead, there was a sign that said, BE RIGHT BACK.

“Right, then,” River said. “I suggest we get ourselves well and truly lost in here.”

“I second that.” Together, they walked into the stacks, winding their way through the maze of shelves, until finally they found themselves at a dead end in the back of the store, a tiny little nook surrounded by books, featuring a single beanbag chair.

“Oh, don’t tell me we have to fight for it,” River said.

“I don’t know,” Rose said, grinning at her again. “I don’t see why we can’t just share.”

“I see why he likes you,” River replied, sinking down into the chair.

“It’s definitely for my excellent problem-solving skills.” Rose dropped down onto the beanbag, her limbs overlapping significantly with River’s. She found that she didn’t mind. She hadn’t really been this close to anyone in a long time, and it was nice, feeling another person’s warmth. Especially when that person was River Song.

“So,” Rose said. “How long do we have, do you think?”

“Until our stunt turns up in the papers, I should think.”

“Not online?” Rose checked.

River shook her head. “It’s got to be a newspaper. He’ll want something he can hold up in front of my face when he sees me.”

“Well, then,” Rose said. “I suppose we��ll have to find something to do while we wait.”

River shifted her body to face Rose. Slowly, carefully, deliberately, she drew one finger up Rose’s jacket-clad arm. Rose’s skin tingled at the touch.

“I can think of a few things,” River said, her voice low.

“Oh, yeah?” Rose bit her lip, fluttering her eyelashes in that way that had always worked on the Doctor. “Don’t suppose you’d care to share with the class.”

“Not the class,” River said. She leaned forward, her nose almost brushing against Rose’s. “Might consider sharing with you, though. If you wanted to know.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find I’m an excellent learner.”

River closed the gap then, her lips meeting Rose’s in what felt to Rose like a burst of light. Her hand gripped the leather of Rose’s jacket, holding Rose in place, and Rose found her own hands running through River’s hair, gripping at it as she desperately returned the kiss. It really had been too long since she’d been close to anyone— and sure, she’d been looking for the Doctor, but instead she’d found someone the Doctor loved, and Rose was willing to bet she would grow to love River too. She certainly had the like part down, and definitely the lust, if her own gasps and barely-suppressed moans were to be believed.

She tore herself away, still breathing heavily, not even wanting to think what her face looked like after an encounter with River’s lipstick. “You sure this is the place for this?”

“Can’t leave until the police are gone,” River pointed out.

“Oh, come on, like we couldn’t break out of jail?” Rose grinned.

“Fair point.”

Rose moved her face forward until she was almost— but not quite— kissing River. “C’mon,” she whispered. “Let’s take our chances. Find someplace a bit more comfortable.” Not waiting for a reply, she jumped to her feet, holding out her hand. River took it, and Rose pulled her to her feet. Together, hand in hand, they walked out of the bookstore and onto the street, and right away, Rose started running, her hand still in River’s.

“Did you see them?” River asked, raising her voice to be heard.

“No." Rose flicked a glance back at River. “Just more fun this way.”

They weren’t on the street for long. Rose pulled them into the first hotel she saw, and River pulled a trick with a bit of psychic paper to convince the front desk that she was some kind of VIP priority rewards member, and minutes later, they were in a lavish room, the kind Rose had only ever dreamed of as a kid, and River was pressing Rose back against the pillows, unzipping Rose’s leather jacket with one hand.

“You’re sure about this?” she asked, her head hovering just above Rose’s, clear gray eyes staring down. She was breathing heavily, likely a side effect of the running, but equally likely a reaction to what was happening— what was about to happen—

“Yes,” Rose said, closing her eyes. Yes, except— she opened them again. “That is, if the Doctor won’t mind.”

River gave her a wicked grin. “Oh, he knows what I get up to when he’s not around.”

Rose laughed. “Won’t he be surprised this time!”

River’s hand was inching up Rose’s shirt, electric against the skin of Rose’s stomach. “That’s what I’m counting on.” She bent down to kiss Rose again, and Rose let herself succumb.

The next morning, they put themselves back together— each with significant hindrance from the other— and stepped out of the hotel to find the TARDIS, parked on the street corner. It was different, a brighter blue, a new emblem on one of the doors, but still, Rose could’ve cried to see it. She probably would have, except that she was saving the real tears for when she saw the Doctor.

The door creaked open, and that creak, it sounded exactly the way it always had. Rose found that grin coming back, that flutter of anticipation in her stomach— and then the Doctor stepped out, and he looked different, all gangly with floppy hair and a bowtie, but Rose could tell. He was still the Doctor.

He hadn’t seen her yet. His face was hidden behind a newspaper, which he was holding loosely in disjointed hands: he held himself like his body was held together with elastic and he didn’t much care if it fell apart. Rose loved it already.

“What do you call this?” he was asking, thrusting the paper out.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

The Doctor’s eyes peeked over the paper, still looking only at River. “Yes. It rather did.”

River reached for Rose’s hand. “And I’ve got company.”

The Doctor glanced at Rose, disinterested, and then suddenly very interested, his body going still, the paper dropping to the ground.

“No. It’s not possible.”

“Well, isn’t that typical,” Rose said, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect. “You jump across universes for a guy, and then he doesn’t even believe it’s possible.”

The Doctor stared. When he finally spoke, it came out a breath, barely above a whisper. “Rose Tyler.” Before Rose could even have a hope at responding, he swept her into a hug, holding her tight, and she hugged him back, and now she was crying, tears streaming down her face, and she clung to the Doctor like it was life-or-death, because honestly, wasn’t it? And then the Doctor pulled back just enough to kiss her, his hands cupping her face, and she kissed him back, desperate, hungry. Finally, she broke away to look at him, to take in his new face from this close up, to brush her hand through his brand new hair.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

“But—“ His eyes searched her face. “How?”

“Bad Wolf,” Rose said.

Understanding dawned, his expression settling into something deathly serious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve come to terms with it.” Rose grinned. “I want to know what you’ve been up to. How long’s it been?”

“Hundred years, maybe.” The Doctor glanced over to where River was still standing, watching. “Got married.”

Rose’s grin only grew. “Oh, I noticed.”

“Oh, no, don’t tell me you two are getting along,” the Doctor groaned. “That’s the last thing I need.”

Rose laughed, and River joined her, their voices mixing together.

“D’you know what I think?” Rose asked, looking from the Doctor to River. “I think the three of us are going to have lots of fun together.”

And, as it turned out, she was right.

#my fic #fanfiction #doctor who #rose tyler #river song #riverrose #river x rose #eleven x river x rose #eleven x river #eleven x rose #doctorrose #elevenrose #reunions #dimension cannon #polyamory #bad wolf rose

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