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The world is ending right in front of Rose Tyler.
She can’t help but feel oddly nostalgic. They’ve been here once before, the two of them. She was only nineteen, and she can’t help but think of how little she knew about anything when her and the Doctor were standing upon a spaceship, watching the world, her world, burst into flames. They were very different people then. Him, literally as much as metaphorically.
It’s a different world that’s alight now, but it’s the one in which she’s found her home. Her family. Her life.
The man she’s come to call John squeezes her hand. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, grinning that boyish grin. Rose smiles back, and takes a moment to study him.
John isn’t really the Doctor. Deep down, they both know that. Even with his face and his memories. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for her to start calling him John, even when they were alone. John Smith, her beautiful, mostly human, husband. Rose loves John, and she loves the Doctor just the same, as she always has. They are the same — from the freckles on his cheeks, to his puppy dog eyes, and his crooked nose — he is the Doctor as much as he isn’t. John is content with the slower aspects of life, where the Doctor wouldn’t be able to stop his leg from dancing. John is steady and reliable and patient in a way the Doctor could never stand to be, his mind racing around just as fast as his TARDIS. John has the one thing that made Rose’s relationship with the Doctor as painful as it was brilliant: human mortality.
John could spend the rest of his life with her. And he will. They don’t have long left, after all.
Rose wets her lips. “We were together the last time I saw the world burn,” she says.
“That we were,” says John. “Our first date.” She doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s beaming again, and she rolls her eyes when he bumps his shoulder against hers.
“That doesn’t count!” she protests, turning to him.
“Oh I really think it does. We held hands and watched something reminiscent of a sunset, both of which are important components of a human date.” John swings their joined hands, as if to make a point.
“Okay, now this is definitely not a date.”
“Could be. I’d do anything with you and be happy to call it a date, Rose Tyler.”
The familiar flutters in her chest make themselves known, and she exhales a little. “You massive sap,” she laughs, and tilts her head towards him ever so slightly.
“I am a bit, aren’t I?”
“Yeah,” Rose says with a smile.
They drift off into a comfortable silence, both of them intently watching the fire raging towards them. Earth is burning up like it has a fever, painting the sky in reds and oranges and yellows that do look exactly like a sunset, in John’s defense. She wonders how much of their world is gone. How many people have been taken from it. How many are left.
“Thought the next big event in our lives would’ve been having a kid, not the end of the world,” Rose laughs, but the sound catches in her throat, and her eyes begin to sting.
John rubs his thumb across the back of her hand. “We would’ve had a girl,” he says definitively.
It takes a moment before Rose can speak. “You think so?” she sniffs, wiping a tear from her cheek. “What would we call her?”
“I’ve always liked the name Mia.”
“Mia Smith,” she says, trying it out on her tongue. “She sounds perfect.”
“Blonde hair like her mother, blue eyes like her father. Stubbornness of both combined to create the ultimate child of mayhem. Perfect indeed.”
Rose rolls her eyes fondly. “Work that one out with a Punnett square, did you?”
“Spot on.” John does that thing that she loves, pushing his lip out and sucking air through his teeth, always a sign of him saying something fantastical. “Don’t ask about how I found out your genotype.”
“I’d forgotten that was even a word, babe.”
“Brilliant,” says John, and gives her a peck on the cheek.
Rose turns her face, using her free hand to cup John’s cheek. He flushes a little, his eyes darting back and forth between hers. The sharp line of his jaw is defined by the glow of the fire, and his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.
“Yes, darling?” he asks, leaning into her palm.
“Give me a proper kiss, John,” Rose smiles. “One to remember.”
He obliges with a quirk of his lip and a twinkle in his eye, taking her bottom lip between his. Rose can’t help but grin against her husband’s mouth, her hand dropping to his shoulder as John’s rises to stroke her cheek. After a short while, they break apart, and Rose sighs. She loves him more than she ever thought possible.
“Are you scared, Rose?” John asks after a brief silence. It’s a genuine question. One she takes care to think about before answering.
“No. No, I don’t think I am.” She looks in his eyes, almost urging him to understand how strongly she feels about this. “We’ll find each other again. Without a doubt. And why would I be scared when I have you?”
The softness in John's eyes makes her tear up again. He nods, swallowing as if he’s on the verge of crying as well. “How long are you gonna stay with me?”
Rose feels a pang in her heart, unsure if it’s from love or grief or a messy combination of both.
“Forever,” she replies, and finally squeezes his hand back. “I love you.”
“And I love you, Rose Tyler.”
The world may be ending right around her, but like always, with the Doctor by her side, Rose knows everything will be alright eventually, no matter where in the universe they end up.