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He'd felt her presence through this whole excursion. Rose, everywhere, in that dingy old cell (with the door unlocked), in the barn, even in the projected image on Gallifrey. It was as if she was there, with him, her hand seconds from slipping into his.
He knew he was going to regenerate soon. He could tell his Eleventh self knew it too, though he wouldn't say anything about it, of course he wouldn't, it was far too morbid, after all. But his song was ending, the Ood had said, and he believed them.
If there was one thing he wanted when he regenerated, it was Rose, but that could never happen. She was with his double, and he was happy for her, oh, endlessly happy, because she was no longer in danger at every turn, and he knew he would take care of her. But there would always be a selfish part of himself that wanted her with him, and it felt foolish.
After the discussion of the children on Gallifrey, he'd asked his other self about her, needing to know exactly what he remembered in the future. He didn't want to forget this wonderful, brilliant woman, even if romantically, hundreds of years down the road, he moved on.
"Do you remember her? Or have you forgetten her as well?" He asked, crossing his arms and glaring at himself.
His Eleventh self continued to chisel at the wall, but the other Doctor saw his gaze darken at the measure. "Her name still tears me apart," he admitted. "She'll haunt you, more than she already has."
"So you haven't forgotten."
"No," his Eleventh self looked wistful, "If there is one thing in this world I will always remember, no matter what happens, it will be the way her hand felt slipping into ours, and the way her laugh sounds." He went back to chiseling, but continued to speak. "It's a miracle, you know. We put her in Pete's World with other us, and he'll make her very happy, I've no doubt. And this way, we never have to see her slow down. She can be immortal to us, and that is wonderful."
The Doctor had never thought of it this way, and had to clench his jaw to keep carefully kept back tears from slipping out. Not now, no, not when there were Zygons and Queen Elizabeth the First and more mad things that were very... Doctorish. He could think about Rose later. He'd always think about Rose later. He knew that for sure now.
***
They stood around the big, red, button. His war self, the self before he met Rose, laughed giddily. "Bad Wolf girl, I could kiss you!"
"Sorry," The Doctor blurted, "Did you just say 'Bad Wolf'?"
His war self nodded and pointed to a stack of what appeared to be hay, where someone who appeared to be Rose was sitting. She smiled at him and gave a little wave of her fingers. He could practically hear his Eleventh self gaping behind him as he approached her, his hand outstretched.
She slipped her hand into his, and he felt tears pull up at the very familiarity of it. "You're not Rose," he whispered.
"No," she responded, "I'm the Bad Wolf," her voice was gentle and she brought her free hand up to cup his cheek. "But when I took on her form I took her memories with it. I feel what she felt, will stay in this form for as long as this weapon exists."
Unable to contain himself, the Doctor tipped his head forwards, his forehead resting against her knees. She ran her fingers through his hair in a comforting motion. "You know I love you, Doctor," she whispered, continuing to squeeze his hand in hers.
"I love you," he responded, vehemently, lifting his head back to look up into her eyes. "I love you."
She smiled and stroked his hair back, pulling it between her fingers to make it stick up. "There," she said, satisfied, her voice tender. "The whole 'flat' thing didn't suit you, when'd you start doing that?"
"Bit of a fluke," he smiled softly at her. "Just how the hair happened today."
"Don't do it again."
"Yes, ma'am."
She sent him a thousand watt grin and slipped from the bale of hay she was sitting on, falling into his arms, which were more than ready to hold her up, to steady her, to never let her go. Her legs wrapped around his waist immediately, her arms locked around his neck and head buried in the crook of his neck.
He held her close, relishing in it, absorbing it for a later date, when he would not have her with him, even this copy of her that was not unlike the copy of himself he had given Rose. "Can you come with me?" He whispered, "When all this is over, will you stay with me?" He pulled her close as he finished: "I'm dying."
"I know," she responded, "And yes, I can stay with you. I want to stay with you."
Relief poured through his veins, every piece of him clinging to the impossible woman wrapped around him. She slowly let her legs drop from around him and she cupped his cheeks, staring up into his eyes. "Save Gallifrey, my Time Lord. Save the universe."
He'd never been more inspired to save anything in his life.
She stayed with him, as she promised, but he knew their time would be short, she could not stay into his next regeneration. So when he knew he was dying, when the time had come, he said goodbye to his friends, including his Rose, foretelling her great year, promising her the world she was about to receive.
He went inside the TARDIS, knowing that this was the moment. The other Rose, in her holed clothing, for she was as a Time Lord, wearing the same thing as an armor against the world, was standing there, her hand outstretched to him.
"I leave when you regenerate," she whispered as his arms encircled her.
"Why?" He choked on the word, "Why can't you stay?"
"You were made for me, Doctor, this you," She said, pulling away to frame his face in her hands. "You were made to love me, don't think I don't know, cause I do. You can't live your whole, big, Time Lord life distracted by me. I'm gonna be something good for you to look back on, and I'm not dyin'."
The gold started to flow through his veins. He watched it with a horrified expression on his face. He didn't want to leave her, not like this, not ever, but he knew that-
"I'll be watching over you," she finished his thought. "When you make it through something that seems utterly ridiculous, something that should kill you and doesn't, from now until you die, that's me. It'll always be me, because I plan to keep your stodgy self alive as long as possible, because the universe needs a Doctor, wouldn't you say?"
He choked on a sob and pulled her so that their foreheads were touching. Her fingers pushed up into his hair, and she started to glow gold as well. "I'll regenerate with you, if it'll make you feel better," she whispered. "This you and this me, they'll leave this universe together, and I'll come back to protect the new you. I have a feeling he's gonna need it."
"I don't want to go."
"You daft alien. Of course you don't."
Unable to resist, he tipped his chin forward and met her lips in a soft kiss, and she responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him close as the gold time dust engulfed both of them and pulled them from the world, together, leaving a gangly man with long hair in his place.
Because somewhere, somewhen, be it Tranzalore or Pete's World, there is always a world in which every Doctor has his Rose.