Chapter Text
The moment Rose appeared, she collapsed.
Her knees hit the grated floor of the TARDIS with a dull thud, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The weight of the journey pressed down on her, a crushing exhaustion that seeped into her bones. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the dizziness to fade, but the world still tilted beneath her.
The air in the TARDIS was cool against her flushed skin, but a thin sheen of sweat clung to her, dampening the fabric of her clothes. Her pulse pounded in her ears, loud and erratic. For a brief second, a flicker of golden light pulsed beneath her fingertips, illuminating the cracks in the floor—then, just as quickly, it was gone.
The TARDIS hummed around her. Not the grand, all-encompassing song of the universe she had felt in the other Doctor’s ship, but something smaller. Softer. Familiar.
She forced her head up, blinking against the glow of the time rotor.
Empty.
The TARDIS was empty.
Of course it was.
The other her—the Rose of this timeline—had just left. She had gone to find the Eleventh Doctor, chasing the future while Rose had been dragged back into the past.
A shaky breath left her lips.
She had known this was coming. Knew what she had agreed to. But now that she was here, now that she was back—
Her stomach twisted.
She braced her hands against the floor, steadying herself, willing her muscles to cooperate. Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself up. Her legs trembled, her limbs weak from the strain of slipping between timelines, but she forced herself to stand.
She swallowed hard, glancing around.
Everything looked the same.
The coral walls. The golden light. The hum of the console.
It was home.
And yet, it wasn’t.
Not anymore.
She inhaled sharply, straightening her shoulders.
She needed to move. To think. To pull herself together before—
Before she saw him.
The Doctor.
The thought sent a shiver through her, and not from fear. Not exactly.
She had changed.
She wasn’t the same Rose who had once stood in this TARDIS, grinning at the man with the pinstripes and trainers. She wasn’t the girl who had clung to his hand, believing he would always be there.
She had lived lifetimes since then.
And now, she had to step back into this life. Into this moment. Into this version of herself.
And she had to do it right.
Her jaw tightened. First things first.
A shower.
She turned on her heel, heading toward her room with determined steps. The weight of the past clung to her like dust, and she needed to wash it away.
Just for a little while.
Just long enough to breathe.