It had been twenty years.
Twenty years since they first landed in London with the communicators. Twenty years since he'd re-met his Rose. Twenty years since he'd entered this universe.
And no escape. Not yet. Oh, there was a brief reprise, five years earlier, when he'd taken one last trip back to France. But other than that, it was London. London all the time. Traveling to find clues to figure out how to save the universe, but the universe wasn't having any of that saving business.
And there he was. In London. In his silver-tree-shaped TARDIS. Alone.
Reinette had died. Five years earlier. Lived much longer than they'd expected, and as she started to wither, he and Louis took her back to France, to die in the palace. Where she wasn't supposed to die, of course. Being a non-noble. But she was loved by a King and a lonely God. That was enough of a title for them. Louis stayed in France to tend to her. To make sure her grave was not lost in their universe as it was in the one the Doctor returned to.
Suzie left far earlier. Found her own calling or some such nonsense. Or maybe she was simply tired of the domestics. Now, he was simply alone. He'd gotten used to it, by now. It had become the norm these last five years as dressing in French silks had become the norm in the three years he spent in France before coming here.
He sat in a chair outside the TARDIS, looking over new information. The neverending war against the cosmic apocalypse that seemed to never come. The sonic screwdriver twirled in one hand. A gift from Reinette to the Doctor many, many years earlier. Helped made by Ted. How long had he blamed Ted for Reinette's death? Too long, he decided.
Twenty years since they first landed in London with the communicators. Twenty years since he'd re-met his Rose. Twenty years since he'd entered this universe.
And no escape. Not yet. Oh, there was a brief reprise, five years earlier, when he'd taken one last trip back to France. But other than that, it was London. London all the time. Traveling to find clues to figure out how to save the universe, but the universe wasn't having any of that saving business.
And there he was. In London. In his silver-tree-shaped TARDIS. Alone.
Reinette had died. Five years earlier. Lived much longer than they'd expected, and as she started to wither, he and Louis took her back to France, to die in the palace. Where she wasn't supposed to die, of course. Being a non-noble. But she was loved by a King and a lonely God. That was enough of a title for them. Louis stayed in France to tend to her. To make sure her grave was not lost in their universe as it was in the one the Doctor returned to.
Suzie left far earlier. Found her own calling or some such nonsense. Or maybe she was simply tired of the domestics. Now, he was simply alone. He'd gotten used to it, by now. It had become the norm these last five years as dressing in French silks had become the norm in the three years he spent in France before coming here.
He sat in a chair outside the TARDIS, looking over new information. The neverending war against the cosmic apocalypse that seemed to never come. The sonic screwdriver twirled in one hand. A gift from Reinette to the Doctor many, many years earlier. Helped made by Ted. How long had he blamed Ted for Reinette's death? Too long, he decided.
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But she felt real.
"Why did you come?" he asked. It was better than arguing with a hallucination as to whether or not it was real.
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He seemed so delicate -- and that wasn't just the cane by his side. She'd get the story of that later. Just old and tired and she hurt for him, for his loss. Rose turned her face into his hand, placing a kiss in the palm.
"Because I've been gone too long."
Carefully, so utterly carefully -- she was treating him like finest crystal -- she indicated she wanted him to stand and then helped him up the rest of the way. A subtle kick and the wine spilled red on the grass. It was time for a cup of tea, she decided. Maybe ice cream, if he had it. Old times.
"Because I'm Rose and you're the Doctor and it was only ever a matter of time."
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It was something he really should've managed to get used to, by now.
And how many times had he fixed two cups of tea by accident? What damage would one more do?
"Tea?" he asked, limping towards the kitchen. His leg didn't ache nearly so much as it did in his youth, but the injury had never healed. The doctors on New New Earth suggested regeneration. He often thought of that as a worthy cure.
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"What happened?" she asked.
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He swore under his breath and slammed the cabinet. A different tea than the one he wanted, then. He opened a different cabinet and pulled out a box.
"I don't remember how you like it." The statement was a lie, of course.
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She looked up at him, and cocked a single eyebrow. Didn't remember, bollocks.
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If he hadn't, he'd have probably still had to see Reinette die. He'd have only been in his mid-fifties, while Reinette was settling into her sixties when she passed. But that wasn't the only reason why he wanted humanity. It was the chance to live out the life. Funny thing to long for after all these years.
"Still. Pleasant while it happened." He handed her the tea. Made the way he remembered.
"How is Jamie?" The way he asked was almost as though it were idle conversation with someone he was very used to seeing.
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Rose took a long sip of her tea -- made perfectly. As if he'd ever forgotten. "You did remember," she murmured, redundantly, hiding the faint flare of embarrassment in her sip.
Then, offhand, further to an earlier comment of his: "We were never really lovers." She didn't fully believe that any more than he did, but saying it, making the argument, might help with his sense that she was just a hallucinations. "Although not for want of trying."
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"Gone. Can't have been that long for you, Rose." He was not going for particularly cruel or cold, but he was rubbish at putting an equal mixture of sympathy and curiosity in his voice.
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"Long enough," was all she said. "Good tea."
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He raised the cup to his lips and took a small sip. It wasn't terrible. It just felt...ridiculously strange sitting there with her. Surreal. Having tea. Talking about nothing. Like all the time that had passed hadn't. It had. Part of him wanted to shake her and scream at her for leaving him. Part of him wanted to walk away and pretend she'd never come back.
The more logical part of him that said he should just stay put and drink his tea (the part of him with the voice that sounded like Reinette) won over and he took another sip of tea.
"How did you get back?"
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Forced cheerful grin. AWKward, Rose thought, the voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like Jack. He'd said that this was an 'idea of dubious quality', but she'd convinced him to let her try. To go to the Doctor when she figured he'd need her the most. Jack had mostly given up trying to talk sense into her over the Doctor, but she loved him for trying nonetheless.
Silence for a moment. Then: "Well, this is bloody awkward, isn't it? Whew..."
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"A bit."
He'd given up on resisting alcohol's effects on him. After all, what was the point, now? Wasn't as if he were the designated driver anymore. There wasn't anywhere to drive.
"Never righted, you know," he said. "The universe. Not this long. Not...well, not really ever."
He looked at her again, almost scrutinizingly.
"How long has it been for you?" It was a question they seemed to always be asking each other.
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"Just a hair over five years," she told him, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd not aged much, due to, she assumed, the TARDIS mucking about with her the last time she'd been here. Bad Wolf and all that.
She'd known coming home wouldn't be easy, but she'd really not expected to find him so dead inside that she didn't even warrant a hug.
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"Universe still isn't saved," he said. "Not quite sure what I haven't done or have done...but it's still not saved. Still getting new people in every week or so. Half this universe must be made up of people from other universes trying to help, by this rate."
He turned and looked at her. Really looked at her. Rose. She looked almost exactly how he remembered her. Oh, a touch different here and there, but still Rose.
"Never expected you to come back." That wasn't that he didn't expect to see her again (he knew he would, at some point), he just didn't expect her to return here willingly.
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"I'm all he's got," she'd said once, long long ago and now, all over again, it was sort of true.
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"Why did you come?"
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"I came home, cos it was time. Because I thought --"
I thought you'd need me.
His hand on her face, close enough to almost connect. She knew he'd hear her thoughts. Because I couldn't stay away forever.
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"I missed you."
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Rose brushed the faintest whisper of a kiss to his lips, an almost chaste acknowledgment of his presence.
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She felt really there. Even the brush of her lips against his felt exactly how he remembered. If it wasn't delirium---and the more they stood together, the less he believed it was---he was going to feel ridiculously embarrassed for his actions in front of her.
"I wish---"
He wished she hadn't gone in the first place. That he'd have had her with him during...but that was so very selfish.
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"I'm home now."
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He pulled back. It had been a long time since he'd been so close to anyone that being cold had become easy. He could just pull back.
What had happened to his tea? He must've drank it all.
"Five years for you and twenty for me. Heh, our whole lives are passing without each other, Rose. Need to stop doing that, I think."
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Nonetheless: twenty. It took her breath away.
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