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Oh, he was stupid.
Donna’s voice barraged him in the back of his mind; You dumbo. Great big, outer-space dunce.
For a moment he could have sworn that his hearts skipped a beat as he felt Mia’s pulsepoint, his brain immediately clicking the new information in place, confirming a singular question he’s had since meeting the girl sixteen hours ago.
Two heartbeats, beating together in sync.
Mia took some deep breaths, her face stuffed in her arms. It was no wonder she thought she had an arrhythmia; in the back of the Doctor’s mind, he wondered what this ‘medication’ she had mentioned was, wondered how this vital part of her anatomy had really been hidden from her her whole life –
“What?” Mia asked hoarsely, wiping her eyes. To the Doctor’s delight, she had calmed a bit – both her mind and her hearts.
“You’re… you’re fine,” he replied, unable to stifle the grin he knew was breaking across his face. He wanted to say so many things at this moment; You’re fine, and you’re my daughter… You’re brilliant and I can’t believe you exist and you’re beautiful, Mia, you look just like your Mum… It’s been me this whole time… I’m your dad.
But he didn’t. His words stuck in his throat, and he knew that somehow, this wasn't the right moment. Rose was in danger and they had so little time. So, instead he said softly, “Your heart is fine, Mia. It’s brilliant.” He lowered his hand from her face, and went on reassuringly, “You don’t have an arrhythmia, you know.”
His daughter glared at him, and he nearly laughed. Mia was his daughter, his, and she was glaring at him the way daughters glare at fathers. “You don’t,” he said, shaking his head, “You…”
The Doctor trailed off, realising he couldn’t very well finish that sentence with you have two hearts, Mia. You haven’t developed your respiratory bypass yet, comes in wonderfully handy with panic attacks. No, no, don’t freak out, you’re totally normal and human. Of course you are.
Thankfully, Mia ended the conversation for him, and they got back into the car a few minutes later. They didn’t talk much on the rest of the drive, both of them lost in thought.
The Doctor was turning over every bit of information he had gathered since meeting Mia. He knew that Rose worked so much, Mia hardly saw her. He knew that Mia thought her father was dead, and that she’d been partially raised by Jackie and Pete when she was little. And he knew that Rose hadn’t been… with anyone else. Since him.
Guilt twisted deep in his abdomen. Not for the first time since losing Rose, he wished he had done things very differently with her. He wished he had acted on his feelings towards her sooner than Krop bloody Tor, and he wished he had been more truthful and open with her even after giving in. Their relationship had changed in a major way, and he had not wanted to talk about it (he had never been the best about talking out his feelings), but he had selfishly needed her.
He had intended to make it up to her. Court her properly, even. He had plans to take her to the finest and most beautiful corners of the universe and tell her exactly what he’d been thinking, and how he felt about her, about how much he lov–
She had been ripped from him before he could work up the courage to do it. And Rose – his beautiful, strong, forgiving Rose – she had repaid him by going through a foreign, alien pregnancy alone, and raising their daughter by herself.
And she had never been with anyone else since.
Rassilon, he had ruined her.
But when he snuck a glance at Mia, who was slumped over on the seat, catching a bit of rest, he couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything about his daughter but pride and happiness. He could never regret what he’d done with Rose, because somehow, Mia had been the miraculous result. A small smile made its way to his lips. As impossible as it was supposed to be, she was here. He was so incredibly happy she was.