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The TARDIS had a rhythm Rose knew by heart now- the steady thrum of engine beneath her feet, the faint rattle of unseen pipes, the way the walls seemed to breathe with her, even the song that had started in her head but was now settled deep in her heart. It wasn’t just a ship anymore. It was home.
And so was he.
The Doctor was bent over the console, frowning in concentration. He tapped something, twisted a dial, pulled a lever with a sharp tug that would’ve looked careless if Rose hadn’t seen him do it a thousand times with impossible precision. She leaned her chin on her folded arms, just watching.
It was almost funny, really- this alien who claimed not to need anyone, and yet here he was, orbiting around her without even realising it. Always checking she kept up when they walked, always passing her the first mug of tea, always standing just a fraction closer than necessary whenever someone else so much as looked at her too long.
He looked up suddenly, catching her staring.
“What?” he said suspiciously.
Rose grinned. “Nothin’. You’re just-” She searched for the right word. “You.”
The Doctor snorted, tugged another lever, and muttered something about women being daft. But his ears had gone a bit pink.
It made her love him more.
They landed on a planet that could’ve been pulled out of a painting. Hills rolling in green waves, blossoms spilling from trees like silver snow, air that shimmered with warmth. Rose twirled once on the grass, hair catching the sunlight.
“Beautiful,” she said. “Its so much like Earth!”
“Mmm.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Not bad. Maybe even a bit better- not spoiled by pollution- finally some people who didn’t need to learn that lesson the hard way. Still… It’s alright for somethin’ on the outer rims.”
Rose shot him a look.
“It’s stunnin’, and you know it.”
He smirked, conceding with a half-shrug.
“Alright. Stunnin’.”
They followed a dirt path, hand in hand, to a village nestled in the valley. The Doctor clearly knew exactly where they were going, and Rose, as always, was just happy to be along for the ride.
The people- tall, luminous, voices soft as windchimes- welcomed them with quiet smiles. The Doctor explained, in that casual way of his, that they’d arrived during a festival.
“Festival of what?” Rose asked.
“Dedication.” he said. “Sacred t’ them.”
The word lingered, heavier than the air.
Rose considered it- wondered if they were here during such a festival on purpose, or if the destination was the point and the festival was coincidence.
She decided not to think about it too hard.
That evening the village glowed with lanterns, music winding through the square like smoke. They’d danced and laughed, tried foods and even played a game where the Doctor won Rose a bracelet carved from a smooth purple stone.
As the evening stretched toward early night, the air about the village shifted. One by one, the people stepped forward with tokens- objects worn by use, precious by memory. A scarf, a carving, a child’s drawing. Each placed into a carved bowl at the center of the square, shimmering faintly as it touched the others before being taken by the golden flame at the bowl’s center.
“What’re they for?” Rose whispered.
“Offerings.” the Doctor said. “Symbols of whatever, or whoever, they’ve given their lives to. Doesn’t matter what it is. Only that it matters to them.”
Rose folded her arms, watching quietly. Something tugged at her chest. Dedication. Such a simple word, but there was so much weight in it.
“What would you put in?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer. Not at first. He was looking at her- just looking, like she was a puzzle and the answer all at once. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
“Not sure I’ve got anything they’d take. Runnin’ all the time, me. Don’t keep much ‘round.”
Rose smiled, brushing her fingers against his.
“Bet you do.” She insisted.
He didn’t answer her, just kept watching in that way he had, the look that made her feel like she might one day be worth the life he gave her.
They watched in quiet respect for a while, then slipped away after, wandering out into the meadow where the grass shimmered silver under the stars. Rose lay back and stared up at them, the universe spread endless above her. The Doctor sat beside her, knees drawn up, gaze fixed somewhere far away.
“Funny, innit?” she said. “All those stars, all those worlds. Could be anywhere. But we’re here.”
He hummed in agreement, not looking at her. He kept his eyes fixed hard in the distance.
“You ever think,” Rose went on, “dedication’s not about stayin’ put? Maybe it’s about keepin’ with someone, no matter where you end up?”
That made him glance down at her. His face was unreadable in the starlight.
“You’re wasted on me.” he muttered.
She propped herself on her elbows, upset. “Why d’you say things like that?”
“Because it’s true.” His voice was sharp, but brittle underneath. “You could’ve had an easy life. Anyone you wanted. Instead you’re out here riskin’ it all, just-” He stopped himself, jaw tightening.
“Just with you.” Rose finished. “Just want you.”
His eyes met hers, and something in him faltered. Slowly, like a man stepping somewhere dangerous, he lay back beside her. For a while, they just breathed the same night air. After a while in the silence, she snuggled in beside him. Neither spoke, and after a long time, the Doctor heard her light snores where she’d fallen asleep. He pulled her closer to his chest and closed his eyes.
They left the next morning, cords of silver-thread offered by the villagers tied around their wrists. Dedication, they were told, was binding in the wearing. They’d been instructed to think of what they wanted their lives to be for, then to tie them- but not to do so lightly.
Rose knotted hers without hesitation.
The Doctor took a fraction longer before tugging his snug.
Back in the TARDIS, Rose slumped into the jump seat, watching him circle the console again.
“You know what I think?” she said.
“Always dangerous, that.” he teased, but his eyes flicked toward her.
“I think dedication isn’t about festivals or ceremonies. It’s in the little things. Like you always savin’ me the last biscuit. Or never lettin’ go of my hand, even when you’re draggin’ me through God-knows-where and I’m just slowin’ you down.”
He stilled, just for a moment, and she knew she’d hit the mark.
“You make it sound easy.” he said softly.
“Maybe it is.” She tilted her head, smiling. “Maybe you’re better at it than you think.”
The Doctor leaned on the console, hands braced. His gaze caught hers across the room- steady, piercing, almost unbearably vulnerable.
Then he moved, quick as a thought, and before she realised he’d crossed the space, he was kneeling in front of her.
Rose’s breath caught. “Doctor-”
He pulled something from his jacket pocket. Not a ring, not a bracelet- more like a band of metal, burnished and old, etched with lines that shimmered faintly in the light. Gallifreyan, she thought, though she couldn’t read it, she recognized the circles within circles from around the ship.
“Not much for traditions,” he said, voice rough. “Never saw the point. But this-” He swallowed. “This was mine. Back home. It was my identification cuff, from when I was a boy. The only thing in existence with my given name on it. And I’ve carried it, through everything, even when I thought I didn’t deserve to. But if dedication means anything, Rose Tyler, it’s this.”
He held it out, awkward and raw and utterly himself.
“Stay with me,” he said. “Not just for now. For… as long as I’ve got left.”
Rose stared, heart thundering. Then she grinned through the sudden sting in her eyes, grabbed him by the ears, and kissed him.
Well…” When she finally pulled back, breathless, she whispered, “Took you long enough. Here I was, makin’ myself immortal for you…”
He laughed, choked and relieved, and slipped the band gently onto her wrist.
“Gonna get a proper ring next time we’re on Earth…” He promised.
“Good.” She said, turning it over in the light. “Because it’s beautiful- but I’d rather keep it put up for safe keeping more often than not.”
The Doctor snorted and rolled his eyes. Rose swatted at him, batting away tears.
“Stop it! You’ve carried this for centuries, but isn't it my luck to lose it while I’m still gettin’ used to livin’ the long life?”
The Doctor grinned and shook his head.
“I love you, Rose Tyler.”
“I love you too, you daft alien.” Rose promised, standing on her toes to kiss him again.
The TARDIS hummed around them, warm and alive, as if approving.
And Rose thought, as she curled into his arms, that dedication didn’t need words at all. But she was glad he’d found them anyway.