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Rose can see everything.
She watches the big bang create the universe, and the moment the sun roasts the Earth. She sees the first fish who makes its way to land, and the last human draw their final breath, billions of miles from a home they never even knew. She sees stars come to be and burn out, sees entire galaxies rise and fall. All of time and space exists in her mind simultaneously, coming to life between one breath and the next.
And she sees the Doctor. She sees all the faces he's worn, all the people he's loved and lost, all the terrible choices he's had to make. She sees the danger he faces day in and day out, inescapable no matter how hard he tries. She sees his end coming now, and she refuses to allow it.
Because that's something she can do now. Simply—refuse. There's a power in her, running through her, surrounding her. It's like nothing she's ever felt before, nothing she's ever dreamed. It hurts, it's too much, but she can't stop. There's too much she needs to do, so much she can do. It's...heady, being able to do so much. Traveling with the Doctor has revealed a strength within herself she never realized she possessed before, but this is so much more.
It's incredible, unbelievable, fantastic.
She decimates the entirety of the Dalek empire with nothing more than a thought. She divides them down to their very atoms and scatters them across the universe. They seemed so terrifying only a little bit ago, and now they're nothing. It is...satisfying, she thinks.
"Rose, you've done it," the Doctor says, his voice urgent, panic twisting his expression. She sees so many faces when she looks at him. Her Doctor, always her Doctor, no matter what form he takes. No matter if she's by his side in the past or the future—it is all the same to her, right now. "Now stop. Just let it go."
"How can I let go of this?" Rose says. Doesn't he understand? He, of all people, should understand. She burns with energy, with purpose, with everything that is and ever was. She controls death, she— "I bring life."
And just like that, she feeds life into Jack Harkness, bringing him back. Her friend, a man very important to the universe. She sees everything he will do. Facing Time Lords, leading Torchwood, fighting the Cybermen, helping the Doctor escape from her prison, becoming the Face of Bo. Her friend, always her friend. And she created that spark of life inside him once more.
The Doctor is speaking to her, telling her this is wrong, that a human is never meant to be what she's become. But become it she has, and it she shall remain. There is no going back from this, no letting go of the universe at her fingertips. She is so very big and it hurts but she thinks the pain is worth it. She thinks the pain is controllable. If she can create life from nothing and erase an entire race from existence in an instant, can't she create herself? Can't she make herself strong enough to hold her new self?
"I can do this," Rose says, blinking slowly. She says it, and makes it so.
It hurts less, now, but the pain isn't completely gone. She doesn't think it ever will be—she can make herself big enough to hold her bigness, but she's still human at her core. There is only so much a species as simple as humanity can grow before it explodes.
"Rose," the Doctor says, still so distressed. Rose steps forward and takes his hand like the Doctor did for her what feels like lifetimes ago, and yet like it was just yesterday as well. When he became a lifeline for her—he still is, in a way. The universe is in her head and everything is spinning so fast, and yet here the pair of them are.
She understands him now more than she ever has before. This is what he sees, what he's always seen. It's glorious and terrifying and she is so very glad to be sharing it with him now.
"It's okay," Rose says. She thinks she smiles at him. She thinks she's crying. Distantly, she feels Jack enter the room behind them, but she doesn't look away from the Doctor, her wonderful Doctor. "It's okay. Everything will be alright now."
"This is all my fault," the Doctor says. "Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry."
"I'm not," Rose says, and she means it with everything she has. She knows she's smiling now, and she squeezes the Doctor's hand. "And you shouldn't be, either. Look at me—I'm okay. The Daleks are gone. Jack is alive. I won't die. What is there to be sorry for?"
The Doctor gapes at her soundlessly, and squeezes her hand back. They stare at each other, connecting in a way Rose doesn't think they've ever done, as close as they've become in their travels. Now close in a way Rose simply wasn't capable of before looking into the Time Vortex and having it look back into her.
Rose wonders what the Doctor sees when he looks at her, what it's like from the outside. She radiates with energy, vibrates with it, feels it moving through her. What does that look like? How much of it does the Doctor feel? Does he experience this right alongside her, with all those senses of his? Or is she something so new as to be an enigma to the Doctor himself?
"Uh, not to interrupt," comes Jack's voice, and the Doctor's eyes flick over Rose's shoulder to look at the other man. His mouth twists. "But what is going on, exactly?"
"Rose did something incredibly stupid, and saved all our lives," the Doctor says lightly, and Rose snorts. It's such a—human reaction, and she finds that it pleases her, that she's still capable of things like that. She likes this new her, but she likes the old her, too. Be a shame to lose that person completely.
"Right," Jack says slowly. Rose hears—and feels—him walk closer until he's in her line of vision. He jerks when his gaze meets hers, his eyes going wide. "Rose," he breathes. "You—what—?"
"How are you feeling?" Rose asks. She looks him over. He's so—bright. Did he always look like this, she just couldn't see it? Was he always full of such large amounts of energy? Or— "Did I do that?"
Jack frowns, confused by the question, but she isn't asking him, and it's the Doctor who answers.
"Yes," he says, and when she looks to him, his expression is grave. "You have no control over this, no balance—you've put too much life into him. You've made him a fixed point."
"What?" Jack demands. "What does that even mean?"
"You died," Rose says. "And I brought you back. But now..." Her brows furrow. He isn't like the Doctor, but he's so much more than what he was before. He's so bright. "Now I don't think you can die."
Jack blinks. "Ah," he says. Then he smiles, crooked and roguish and Captain Jack Harkness all over. "Well, more time to hang out with the two of you I suppose."
He winks. The Doctor rolls his eyes. Rose laughs.
It's strange, to see their futures and their pasts while she stands beside them in what she supposes she can call her present. There are multiple avenues now, though. What she's become is changing everything, putting it all in flux. The only problem is she can't tell whether that's for better or for worse yet. Has she saved the universe, becoming the Bad Wolf, or doomed it?
It's almost funny, in a sad way, because she's pretty sure that's the sort of thing the Doctor asks himself a lot about the decisions he makes. And she supposes the only answer is you keep doing the best you can, and hope it all works out for the best.
So that's what she'll do—her best. Not an easy concept maybe, not with her mind so full of everything, making it hard to see which way is up and which is down, but she thinks she can manage it. Especially with her Doctor and her Jack by her side.
She is the Bad Wolf, and she can do anything.