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It starts with a dream.
The Doctor is drowning, thrashing and flailing in a deep pool of water. A flat, grassy field surrounds her on all sides, but every time she thinks she can touch the shore— it retreats, evading her desperate fingers.
And then, just as she’s about to give up and sink below the surface, she sees a face she only ever sees in dreams.
Rose Tyler, hanging above her, holding out a hand.
The Doctor reaches up.
Rose disappears.
It’s always like that, in her dreams.
She wakes up empty.
The next time she sleeps, she can’t move. She’s stuck watching the sun and moon speed past her at a thousand times their usual speed, rising, setting, rising, setting. And then she realizes if she stays frozen, she’ll be here when the sun expands, at the mercy of the final cremation.
Even she has her limits.
Fear fills her chest, expanding with no place to go. She can’t scream. She can’t even tremble. She just has to stand there, petrified, unable to even close her eyes against the light as the dot in the sky gets bigger and bigger.
And then it blinds her, and suddenly from behind her, she hears a voice.
“Doctor.”
It’s Rose.
But the Doctor can’t move. She can’t turn around. She just has to listen as Rose repeats her name, getting further and further away as each moment passes. Rose’s voice fades away, and the Doctor’s skin begins to burn.
She wakes up restless.
She launches the TARDIS. It doesn’t matter where she’s going. She just wants out: out of her ship, with its winding hallways and softly glowing light; out of her dreams, which threaten to encroach on every waking moment; out of her mind , her racing thoughts and deep, deep sadness.
The TARDIS understands perfectly, as she always does. The Doctor is starting to hate her for it: she doesn’t want to be understood, even by her oldest friend. It’s too much responsibility. But when she steps out of the TARDIS into a throng of noisy people on a dark street, the Doctor is grateful all the same. She needs to get lost in a crowd right about now. She needs to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces. She doesn’t even care where she is: it takes her a moment to process her surroundings, the people around her, the music, the people dancing in the streets.
She sniffs the air. It smells of the 1980’s, with notes of Brazil. That combined with the samba music and the bedazzled feather-and-satin outfits leads her to the obvious conclusion that she’s landed in the middle of Carnival. She feels a little underdressed, actually, in her regular coat and T-shirt, but that doesn’t stop her from pushing through the crowd, trying to fill her senses on the things happening around her so she doesn’t have to think about her dreams. It works, sort of: the music is loud, and everyone around her is yelling to be heard over it. The bright and busy costumes keep her eyes occupied, and the simple motion of walking gives her something to focus on. She doesn’t care where she winds up: she just needs to walk .
And then she sees her.
It’s just a flash of blonde hair at first. Could be anyone. It’s not uncommon, actually, for the Doctor to mistake strangers for old friends, especially if the always-present pangs of loss are sharper than usual. Which they have been, lately, when it comes to Rose. The Doctor doesn’t dare get her hopes up, but she pushes closer, cranes her neck to get a closer look—
There’s a sudden jolt in her stomach. She’d know that hoodie anywhere. It’s just a regular purple hoodie, but the specific shade— the blue lining inside the hood— the Doctor has a fleeting memory of leaning against a wall, a young Rose Tyler wishing her a happy new year. She wore that hoodie often enough in their travels, but it’s that last first moment that sticks in the Doctor’s head.
But even with that, the Doctor is frozen in place. It’s just like her dream, except now there’s nothing stopping her but her own fear, the certainty that when she takes a step forward, the woman will turn and her face won’t resemble Rose’s at all. The Doctor closes her eyes for a long moment. When she opens them, the blonde woman is gone.
And then she has another dream. It’s a nice one, for once. They’re in the TARDIS library, sitting together on a sofa. Rose is reading one of her favorite books out loud while the Doctor listens, her head on Rose’s shoulder, one of Rose’s arms around her. Warmth fills the Doctor’s body, and she lets Rose’s voice wash over her, her eyes sliding shut.
When she opens them, she’s alone in her bed on the TARDIS. She rolls over, burying her face in the pillow. This is why she never sleeps: even the good dreams are intolerable upon waking.
But— she’s had three dreams now, in a relatively short period of time, in addition to a flash of blonde and a familiar hoodie in Rio. It has to mean something, doesn’t it? The Doctor doesn’t usually pay much attention to dreams— her mind is always processing her past when she’s asleep. That doesn’t mean she needs to dwell on it when she’s awake. But she can’t get Rose Tyler out of her head. Can’t let go of the question: what if she’s out there somewhere?
It’s not impossible. Or, it is impossible, but Rose was always good at circumventing the impossible. Maybe she’s done it one more time. A tentative excitement rises in the Doctor’s chest, and she squashes it down. It won’t do to get her hopes up. (But she does direct the TARDIS to keep a scan out for vortex energy. Just in case.)
She continues on her way, having adventures here and there, trying her best to not spend all her time wallowing inside the TARDIS, and after a while she almost forgets about the dreams, about the flash of blonde. They were just dreams, after all, and she could’ve been wrong about that hoodie.
So she doesn’t expect it at all when she’s watching luge at the Anti-Grav Olympics in 2085 and she sees another flash of blonde in the stands, coupled with that same purple hoodie. Once, she could write off as a mistake, but twice? She can’t write it off twice. She calls out, “Rose!” but it’s no use. It’s only 2085, and anti-grav technology still roars if you so much as boot it up: between that and the cheering crowd, her voice is lost.
But now she knows to keep looking. Rose is out there somewhere; she’s sure of it. She remembers taking her to the 2084 Anti-Grav Olympics, back when they traveled together, and decides to try other places they went: New Earth, Cardiff in 1860, even Satellite 5, in the years between their first visit and their last stand. She doesn’t see a trace of Rose anywhere. Usually, the Doctor loves having the entire universe to explore: it means she never gets bored. But right now, she hates it. Having the whole universe means she’s looking for a Rose-shaped needle in an infinite haystack, and she does not care for that one bit.
She tries to forget about it. Tries to distract herself with other trips, other adventures. But every time she leaves the TARDIS, something in the back of her mind is asking, Will I see her?
Until she’s in a chippy in the year 2112, just for something to do while she tries to decide where to go next. She’s picking at her chips, barely hungry, when the glass of the window behind her shatters, and two tussling bodies fall through. One is a Slitheen, of all things: large, long-necked, and slimy, it flails to gain the upper hand. But the other— well. The other is Rose. There’s no doubt about it. She’s beautiful, just like she always was, her eyes blazing with a too-familiar mix of determination and adrenaline-fueled joy as she pushes away from the Slitheen.
But it all happens too fast. The moment the Doctor processes what’s going on, Rose darts out of the shop, escaping the Slitheen, and the Doctor is sitting, frozen in shock, with a basket of chips covered in broken glass. When she manages to get up and look outside, Rose is nowhere to be found. And when she tries to research Slitheen encounters in the area, she finds nothing.
Well, whatever the danger is, the Doctor is certain Rose has it handled. And all the Doctor has to do is pretend she’s not devastated she missed her chance.
But at least she has confirmation. Rose is in this universe, somewhere, and all the Doctor has to do is find her.
It’s easier said than done.
She asks Jack first. He pretends to be offended that she’s only visiting to ask about Rose, but he was there when they fought the Daleks on Satellite 5: he knows how much Rose means to her, and how far she would go for Rose. That’s why she went to him to begin with, actually: she knew he would understand.
He doesn’t have any information.
“I’ll call you if I hear anything,” he assures her, and she stays the afternoon with him, wandering around Cardiff and poking their heads into the shops. When she leaves, she promises to come back soon for an actual visit.
“If I’m lucky, I’ll have extra company with me,” she says with a grin.
Jack just winks.
And the Doctor goes back to the TARDIS, trying not to let the hopelessness that’s welling in her chest fill her up completely.
And she keeps looking.
On a whim, she tries Lady Me, who’s still running her trap street in the 2110’s: since her research came up empty, the Doctor has had her suspicions about where the Slitheen came from, and she goes to Lady Me to confirm. As always, Lady Me is polite bordering on hostile, but she tells the Doctor what she wants to know: a Slitheen was executed on the day the Doctor saw Rose.
“What for?” the Doctor asks, her mouth hanging open, her brows drawn together.
“Attacking a civilian,” Lady Me said. At the hitch in the Doctor’s breath, she adds, “Don’t worry. She didn’t die.”
The Doctor lets out a long breath. “Did you see her?”
Lady Me shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Doctor.” She hesitates. “I understand Rose meant very much to you.”
Somewhere, in her shelves and shelves of journals and reference material, she must have a list of all the Doctor’s friends, with pictures and lengthy summaries. The Doctor shudders to think of it, but all she says to Lady Me is, “Thank you.”
Lady Me just smiles.
The Doctor keeps looking. She has to. Now that she’s seen a face she thought she’d lost forever, now that she’s on the brink of hearing a voice she’s so achingly missed, she can’t stop herself. She’s got the TARDIS looking not only for vortex energy, but also artron energy and Rose’s psychic footprint: none of those methods are certain, but they’re better than nothing. The Doctor is practically haunting the places they visited together now: she even, once or twice, lands on the planet orbiting a black hole, a few days before it fell in. She tries the places she meant to take Rose, too: Barcelona, for one, both the planet and the city for good measure; an Elvis show in the ‘50’s; the new Roman empire. And she comes up empty. Every single time.
Finally, after a fruitless day wandering the streets of London in 2010, she decides she might as well give up. She won’t see Rose again— for all she knows, she was hallucinating those other times. She slumps against a wall, the city streets blurring around her. It’s broad daylight, and people are staring, but she doesn’t care.
Until she hears it.
“You all right there?”
Her breath freezes in her throat. Her hearts stop beating. She knows that voice. She’ll always know that voice. No matter how many years pass, no matter how many more people she loses.
She looks up.
Rose Tyler is standing a few feet away.
She looks different, but also the same: she’s still wearing that old hoodie, but her hair’s longer than it was the last time the Doctor saw her. There’s a calm confidence in her eyes, a self-assuredness that was just beginning to bloom when she and the Doctor were traveling together. She’s looking at the Doctor with concern, but when their eyes meet, the concern morphs into something else.
The Doctor can’t breathe. Her chest is too heavy. Her throat is too tight. “Rose?” she gasps, taking in every single detail for fear Rose will disappear again.
“Doctor?” Rose’s voice has softened almost to the point of breaking.
The Doctor doesn’t think. She doesn’t have time— any second now, Rose could disappear. She launches herself forward— and Rose catches her, presses their lips together without a second thought, and for a second the Doctor thinks she’s dreaming again, because how else would Rose Tyler be here, kissing her? But when she lifts her hands to Rose’s face, her skin is warm and soft below the Doctor’s fingers, and if this is a dream, it’s the best one she’s had in a while.
Time suspends itself: the kiss seems to last forever, their bodies pressed together, their mouths moving in tandem. For a long moment, fear catches in the Doctor’s throat, and she’s scared to open her eyes— what if she finds herself alone in her bed again? But when she dares to pull away and check, Rose is still there, her eyes closed, a contented smile spreading on her face.
“It’s really you,” the Doctor breathes. “After all these years. Rose Tyler.”
Rose opens her eyes, and the Doctor almost has to look away. The full force of Rose’s love after so long without it is overwhelming. The only thing she can do is pull Rose into another kiss, one hand behind Rose’s head, tangled in her hair, holding her close, the other tracing its way down Rose’s jaw. Rose tightens her hold on the Doctor’s waist, and the Doctor holds every single moment in her mind, capturing the joy and awe and love that’s flooding every cell in her body and tucking it away for future reference. Rose’s body is so warm , so soft, and it’s everything the Doctor has been missing.
A passerby jeers, and they’re both brought back to reality. They separate, filled with breathless laughter. Rose keeps a hand on the Doctor’s arm, and the Doctor trails her hand down to Rose’s waist: she can’t let go yet. Not after so many years.
“We’d better go,” Rose says through her grin. “They’re going to arrest us if we keep this up.”
“Are you coming back to the TARDIS, then?” the Doctor asks, as if she thinks in a million years Rose might say no. “She’s redecorated. I think you’ll like it.”
In answer, Rose’s hand skates down the Doctor’s arm until their fingers are intertwined. “I’d love to,” she says. “If you’ll have me.” But there’s no uncertainty in her tone either: it’s a formality, a ritual. Long gone are the days when a new body gave either of them pause.
“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor says again. “I would be honored.”