Chapter Text
It was one of those chilled late November nights, where the breeze was crisp and somehow tinged with nostalgia. There was a smell of wood smoke and gunpowder and rain lingering in the air. The sky transformed from a soft hue of pale turquoise to an inky midnight blue, the horizon ominous and distant. Glittering stars decorated the vast emptiness above, creating a ceiling of quiet calm that centred the Doctor as he sat on his coat on the lawn, surrounded by golden-brown leaves. He leaned back on his elbows, eyes glued above, focussing on the constellations he could just about make out from down below. To anyone else, the expanse of space would make them feel small and insignificant. For him, it provided a comfort; the confident knowledge that he was free.
He heard the crunch of an approaching visitor, but he kept his eyes trained upwards, mouth curling upwards at one corner as he smiled. A blanket was placed on his shoulders. The wool was itchy against his neck, but the warmth provided and the care it represented counteracted any discomfort. He sat upright to clutch the blanket closer and twist his neck to look up at the newcomer, and his face splintered into a genuine grin. “Rose!”
“Hey, uncle.” She replied, sitting crossed-legged beside him and dropping her head onto his shoulder. She had made sure to wrap up in boots and a jacket. “It’s getting cold out here. Mum said you’ll catch your death.”
“Your mum should know better.” The Doctor retorted. “I’m perfectly fine. Having said that – I won’t say no to a hot chocolate. With all the cream and marshmallows – oh, and shaved bits of flake!”
Rose giggled and snuggled in further, so he wrapped a long arm around her and kissed her temple. They stayed like this for a little while, as they did most nights. He was enjoying his retirement, but it didn’t mean he didn’t miss the stars. Of course, he wasn’t stranded, and they’d taken trips in the TARDIS on the odd occasion, but Donna had drilled it into him that he wasn’t to overdo it. Small adventures only, followed by copious amounts of rest when he got back. There was still so much he needed to learn before he was ready to get back out there permanently.
Eventually, Rose broke the silence with a whisper. “Who was Rose Tyler?”
The Doctor felt himself tense at the words, despite having expected this conversation eventually. Attempting to act indifferent, he blew a breath through his lips and blinked a few times. “An old friend of mine. Well, I say friend – she was everything. I loved her.”
Acting indifferent went out of the window fast; this new version of him seemed determined to unveil all of his secrets. He berated himself inwardly.
Rose hummed, oblivious to the heat rising in his face. “I can’t remember much from the metacrisis, it’s all sort of… leaving me. But her face flashed up, and I seem to remember she was beautiful. And kind, and brave. And I think that’s why I named myself after her.”
The Doctor pulled away from the embrace to look down at his niece with gentle eyes. “You did, didn’t you?”
“When I chose the name, it was because everything inside me was screaming that it was right. The name of someone who overcame any obstacle, who was strong yet compassionate. Someone who would make mum proud.” Rose took a deep breath. “Now I know that I chose the name of a real person, I just wonder if you could tell me about her?”
He thought about this for a moment. It had been over a thousand years since he’d last seen Rose Tyler, and in that time, he had learned to cope. Regenerating helped – there had been something about his eleventh body that yearned for her in ways that his other selves didn’t – and over time it has become easier to heal from the wound that falling in love had dealt him with. There had been a time he couldn’t go a day without wondering what she was doing, how she was feeling, if she thought about him too. Now, she wasn’t always on the forefront of his thoughts, but mention of her would tear at the sutures he had carefully stitched and everything would come rushing back.
Time doesn’t necessarily heal; it simply provides an opportunity to learn how to cope.
“Rose Tyler was an ordinary girl from a council estate.” The Doctor began, choosing his words as carefully as he could. “Only as it turned out, she wasn’t ordinary at all. You’re right, she was brave and compassionate and beautiful. And above all else, she was so very human. I lost her, and it nearly killed me. Even when she found me again, I…” He looked down now, the threat of tears blurring his vision. “I loved her very much, so much that I was willing to give her up to keep her safe. I only hope she has forgiven me for that.”
There was another small silence. The Doctor took a steadying breath.
“You chose the perfect name.” He spoke. “It suits you. Because you are also brave, strong, beautiful, and kind.”
Rose beamed at him and pulled him into another hug, this time wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing tight. When they came apart, they both sat back to look at the stars again.
“You said ‘loved’, past tense.” She recalled.
The Doctor gave her a side glance and a quick smile. “I did, didn’t I? Time’s a funny thing.”
“Hm.”
The sky was almost obsidian black before they headed back into the house, where they made hot chocolates and he regaled her with stories of exploding suns, gas mask creatures and clockwork droids. The stars blazed above, introspective and drenched in wonder. Somewhere in another universe, the same stars shone down on a similar face, clutching his own Rose tight against a wrathful autumn breeze.