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It was a quiet morning on the TARDIS when Rose woke up.
All the mornings had been quiet since Easter. She would never forget the look on his face when the woman uttered the prophecy, the shake in his hand as he grasped hers, the quiver in his bottom lip, nor the pain in his eyes when he piloted the ship away. The way he engulfed her with his hug, his shaking breaths panting into her neck as he gripped her so tightly, even more tightly than after they closed the Void and he realised that he hadn’t lost her, had broken her heart.
The Doctor didn’t speak much after that night, after pouring out his soul and hearts in their bed, face buried against her chest as tears streamed down his face and she soothed and comforted him with her gentle touches and words. Even though he wasn’t speaking to her about what was going on inside of his clever mind, he communicated to her things through touch, sight and physical expression. She knew what he was going through from the tension in his body and face, the tone he used whilst speaking, and the way he yearned for her touch.
She knew how to care for her Doctor, and he allowed her to.
She fluttered her eyes open, meeting the sight of the Doctor’s chest and the sensation of his doubled heartbeat thrumming away gently against her own chest. His fingers were delicately moving up and down the side of her arm, in a soothing, rhythmic pattern. He had been awake for a while, she gathered. He already didn’t need much sleep, superior biology and all, but he had been sleeping considerably less since the prophecy.
“Good morning,” he murmured gently, immediately sensing her awakeness and planting a small kiss on her temple, where the edges of her mind tingled. They weren’t bonded. Not yet. The Doctor suspected she would be soon. But they explored each other’s minds and relished in the sensation of feeling their visit.
She lifted her head, finding the Doctor gazing down at her with his soft, rich chocolate eyes and a tiny, tender smile. But she saw what truly hid in his soul. The worry. The edge. The searching. He was waiting for those four knocks, and it terrified him.
She brought up a hand to cup his cheek, stroking a thumb against his cheekbone, and furrowed her brow in communication. He softened his look, assuring her she was okay, and reciprocated her gesture. He kissed her gently, which she returned a little. As much as she could with the little energy she had. He pulled back and frowned, stroking her from head to cheek.
“How’re you feeling, love?” he asked, a different kind of worry in his eyes now. She sniffled, shrugged her shoulders, and burrowed herself further against his chest, to which he wrapped his arms around her and snuck another kiss to her head. His hearts churned remorsefully, self-loathing and vexation rising up.
“The same, really,” she mumbled. He gave a forlorn sigh, a guilty sigh, and squeezed her tighter, pecking her head with a light kiss.
“I shouldn’t have taken you there. Not without the right clothes,” he muttered bitterly with a grumpy look on his face, irritated with himself as he replayed the whole day in his head again and again, shuffling through all the possibilities and different outcomes. What he could’ve done better .
Motivated by his impending regeneration, his last regeneration he had gravely told Rose after they got back to the TARDIS, the Doctor decided he was going to power through his bucket list and do all the things he always wanted to do. They went and met Martin Luther King Jr; tried to find out if Marie Antoinette really said “let them eat cake”; sought out the axe-murderer of New Orleans, and then Jack the Ripper; snuck into Live Aid; went to an early performance of The Seagull; watched the inauguration of the first female US president. They were running themselves hard, harder than they ever had, and Rose was admittedly quite tired, but knew how important it was for the Doctor to enjoy himself and his travels before he changed faces again.
Their latest adventure was Mount Fuji. The Doctor had bundled Rose in the warmest clothes and kept checking her temperature and how she was feeling, yet when they finally scaled the mountain and then returned to the TARDIS, the worst cold Rose had ever had settled deep into her body. The Doctor fretted and worried, concerned about her health, and Rose confessed that she was exhausted from all their travelling and that was probably what was worsening her cold.
The Doctor felt extreme guilt and selfishness at her admission. Here he was, dragging her all around Time and Space, not even asking if she was happy, deteriorating her immune system in the process, all because he was terrified to go. She caught his emotions quickly and insisted that it was okay—she had made her choice not to say anything.
He spoilt her to bits the previous night, giving her a bath, a full exfoliation, moisturising (making each other laugh with jokes and impressions of, “Moisturise me, Doctor!” and, “More, mistress?”) and massage. He swaddled her with pillows and blankets in their bed, even though he really didn’t like excess manchester in this regeneration, and queued up a whole bunch of her favourite movies for her to fall asleep to, lulled into dreams with an endless stream of hot chocolate and tea.
“Oh, please don’t blame yourself,” she said, stroking his face and neck. “We both should’ve done things differently, and what’s done is done,” she argued. She then scrunched her face up, and gave a small sneeze into her elbow.
“Bless you,” he said quietly, unable to fight the tiny, amused grin that sprouted onto his lips at his lover being so adorable.
“Thank you,” she smiled, pecking his lips.
“I think I’m going to go out today,” he told her, playing with a few locks of her hair mindlessly. “I’ll let the randomiser go with my bucket list…” he mused. Her stomach churned uncertainly at this suggestion, although she wasn’t sure if it was because she was unwell or because of instinct. Regardless, she decided to protest.
“ Stay ,” she asked in a whine with a pout, gripping onto him tighter. “I’m gonna get so bored.” He gave a baffled, short cackle.
“You’re on a sentient spaceship and time machine with endless rooms and forms of entertainment, and you reckon you’ll get bored without little ol’ me? Dear gods, Rose Tyler,” he smirked amusedly in a low, deep, raspy voice, eyes crinkled around the edges and twinkling brightly.
“Oi, it’s more than that,” she countered firmly with a small poke to his shoulder, making him feign pain. “ You need a break too. Your superior biology can go whacky too—don’t forget Christmas,” she reminded him with a small flick of his nose. The humour fell from his face, his smile just now a ghost. Her own jest dropped, and a moment of tense silence fell between them.
“Today could be my last day. You know that, Rose,” he spoke, quietly yet with a firmness. That statement and fact shook her to her core. She didn’t want him to go. Not at all. Neither of them did.
“Wouldn’t you want to spend your last day in this body with me, in your ship? I’m the reason you look like this, after all,” she replied, trying to convince him. That uncertain feeling now screamed within her, which unnerved her. Something in her soul demanded that he didn’t leave their home. Their safe haven.
“I can delay regeneration, for a little while,” he revealed, caressing her body distractedly, for both of them. “The minute I start regenerating, I'll come back. I want you there with me when it happens,” he confessed. Her eyes went watery.
“You sure you want this today?” she questioned.
He nodded. “Yeah,” he exhaled thoughtfully.
“Then don’t let me stop you,” she said, pecking his lips.
“I want you to sleep, alright?” he instructed, pressing a kiss to her forehead before slipping out of bed, letting her ogle his body partially bare body as a way to unravel the tension formed. “Another eight hours at least. I’ll come and put you on a vitamin patch whilst you rest,” he explained, stroking her head; drifting his fingertips along her pale skin. One final kiss, unable to resist, and he moved away from the bed, catching her fingers briefly in one last bit of contact.
“Love you,” she called out as he stepped out of the bedroom. He paused, popping his head back inside and smiling at her with a smile he only used for her.
“I love you too.”
---
Rose did sleep most of the day the Doctor was gone. She had dozed off very quickly after he left her in the bedroom, too tired and sick to be awoken by him tenderly smoothing the vitamin patch on her arm and kissing her temple softly, sowing seeds of health and rest into the edges of her mind, which she absorbed and metabolised as she slept.
Her body awoke her at random intervals so she could go to the bathroom or eat. The longest she stayed awake was an hour, around lunchtime. She was very convinced that the Doctor had also slipped her a sleeping pill or melatonin—she couldn’t help but sleep.
“Come on,” Rose asked the TARDIS in between stuffing her face with toast and chugging a glass of milk. Buttered toast was her go-to post-nap meal. She would awake, realise she was hungry, and her stomach would scream for the delicious combination of carbs, heat, and dairy. The milk was a sudden craving. “Let me take the patch off. I’m totally fine now,” she insisted. Like a leech waiting until it was full of blood, the vitamin patch would decidedly not come off. It was practically soldered to her skin. She had tried numerous times in numerous ways to get it off, from trying to claw it off with her own nails to prying it off with a crowbar.
The TARDIS gave her a low, vibrato hum which was easily translated to a simple, blunt ‘no’. Grumpiness and annoyance bloomed within the Tyler woman.
“ Please . I just wanna laze around; watch some movies,” she begged, sending mental images to the old girl of her being bundled up in pillows and blankets in the cinema room; dozing off during a movie; being carried to bed by the Doctor when he came back.
The TARDIS nudged Rose’s brain and showed her a very clear memory from the ship.
“Do not let her take off the patch, alright? It has a timer on it. And make sure she sleeps. She needs it,” the Doctor sternly instructed his ship, dressed in an orange space suit. “If anything happens, you get me immediately. ”
“Stupid Time Lord,” Rose muttered, slinking away from the bench and back to their shared bedroom to succumb to her prison sentence of sleep as the TARDIS uttered what could only be described as a humoured laugh.
Rose drifted back to sleep with the hope that the patch would be ready to come off when she woke up next, and that her Gallifreyan would be back to pamper her.
---
The next time Rose awoke, the cloister bells were ringing, and the room was dark; like it was nighttime. Within her body, that sick, uncomfortable feeling surged through her again, and she swore that all of the hairs on her body were standing at full attention.
She reached for her arm where the patch was, only to find it was no longer on her skin. A quick glance at her surroundings showed the patch on the Doctor’s pillow, now shrunken up and looking translucent. It was empty, apparently. She felt better. A lot better. Admittedly, the Doctor’s treatment plan worked.
With surprisingly stable legs, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the console room, determined to find out what was wrong. The cloister bells only rang when something truly bad was happening, and that worried Rose, heart pounding in her chest. Was he regenerating?
As she neared the doorway, she swore she heard her Time Lord mutter harshly, “Stop it! You’re going to wake Rose up!” The words made her stomach churn. There was something in his statement, his tone, that felt entirely wrong .
“Doctor?” she called out with a croaky, sleep-ridden voice, stepping into the console room. “Why are the cloister bells going?” she asked, clutching her head and wincing as the volume seemed to increase in the wide, expansive space.
She froze at the sight of the Doctor by the console. He was different. How? That was uncertain. But the way he was standing there… looking at her… she knew that the cloister bells had been ringing for a reason. In the shadows and against the aqua lights of the time rotor, he looked menacing. Terrifying. His eyes were dark and his face was contorted in a look that was indescribable to Rose.
“Rose,” he breathed out, as though he was amazed to see her there. “Hello.” The bells stopped ringing, and she tried her best to muster up a sense of confusion towards the TARDIS as the Doctor had taught her how to communicate with the ship. Were the bells ringing to wake her up, she tried to ask?
She felt a prominent ‘yes’ come to her mind.
“Hi,” she replied, nervously.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
She gave a timid nod, feeling shy and naked underneath his powerful gaze. As though she was putting on a performance; completing a test. “Yeah. Loads.”
“Good,” he sniffed, fiddling with switches and knobs and dials. “Can’t have you being sick. Not my Rose,” he smiled weakly, his bottom lip wobbling as though he were teetering on an edge. She gazed at him, analysed his appearance and noted that his eyes were glazed and red. Wide. Pupils blown out massively. Something was wrong.
“No…” she murmured, distracted, trying to piece together what exactly was going on with her Time Lord with the little information she had. “Where’d the old girl take you?”
“Mars,” he said simply. “The red planet,” he added with firm diction, low pitch, and drawn-out syllables. He sounded Doctorish, but he didn’t sound like himself .
“Nice?” If possible, he tensed up further.
He paused, glancing up at her. “No. Not necessarily.”
“What was on there?”
“Oh, plenty of things,” he declared in a low voice, gaze darting away. “Things that would terrify you, love.” His eyes flicked back to her. “But I sorted everything out.”
“Don’t you always,” she agreed in an uncertain voice.
“That’s very right, Rose Tyler. I do always sort everything out,” he repeated, walking towards her. “And what if I told you I could sort everything out every time ?” he suggested, a swagger in his walk in a way that made her uncomfortable all over.
He held himself with the confidence of a mad man… a dictator… a god. There was no uncertainty or hesitancy in his steps. This was a man determined and well aware of who and what he was. He was wielding his power and authority, and he was ready to use them both to get whatever he wanted.
“How? You’re not a god. You said that yourself,” she rebutted, trying to be as confident and brave as she could in the face of whatever this was. He always praised her for being such and encouraged her to be it. She had to do it now with this version of him.
“Well, maybe I was wrong,” he replied in a low, loud voice. His voice matched the walk, well-spoken, poised and projected.
“You’re never wrong,” she countered, trying to out-logic him although she knew that was an impossible game.
He raised his eyebrows dubiously, pausing momentarily in his movement. What was his Rose doing? Why was she debating him? Fighting him like this? Why wasn’t she submitting to his views and his ideas like she always did? “Sometimes I am. Not about this, though,” he decided, sniffing again. His eyes seemed redder and wider, she noticed. He looked both terrified and furious.
“And what is that?” she asked in a quiet, almost trembling voice.
“That I’m the Time Lord Victorious,” he explained. Rose couldn’t explain it, but the Doctor’s declaration… the way he said the title, and the way he called himself it, sent shivers down Rose’s spine. It made her blood run cold; her heart stop. It terrified her.
“W-What’s that?”
“Remember how I told you about the Time War?” She nodded. “And how I was the one that ended it? The only one who got out alive?” She nodded again. “In the years it’s been since that war, I’ve always seen myself as a survivor . But today I realised that I’m the winner ,” he emphasised in an almost growl, voice raspy and gravelly with emotion.
“ The winner ?” Rose questioned, shocked.
“The winner,” he confirmed, an erratic, almost proud smile growing on his lips. “And that makes me the Time Lord Victorious — sole controller of Time and their Laws,” he explained, gesturing his hands towards him. He stood tall before her, a conqueror, a leader. She was scared to death.
“You…” she mumbled, cowering a little as she was overwhelmed by this thing her partner had become.
“We,” he drawled, eyes wide with eccentricity and passion as he stepped closer to her, “could rule the world . The universe, in fact,” he corrected himself with a lowered tone. He was right next to her now, nose barely brushing hers as he glanced down at her through his eyelashes. She felt as though she was a child underneath his lanky, lean frame, engulfed and unable to get away. He cupped her cheek gently, and she tried her best to not shy away. “And we could have so much fun,” he grinned, manic. “Isn’t that brilliant ?”
“But…” she trailed off, uncertain of what to say. His demeanour completely threw her off. “It’s wrong,” she murmured.
Something flashed in his eyes at her words as he pulled away, an angry frown pulling upon his lips. Rose shuddered at the sight.
“No. It’s right,” he insisted, moving back to the console to fiddle with the switches. The irritation in him was unmistakable. “The universe cannot be trusted to maintain itself. It needs me as its sole controller,” he explained.
She said the one thing she knew would make him snap back to who he really was.
“Take me home,” she murmured, defiant and fiery.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes and lips pulling into a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
A nerve of fear struck through her. Usually, the idea of Rose leaving the TARDIS destroyed the Doctor. In the few instances that he misunderstood her and thought she was leaving, or had royally messed up to the point he convinced himself she would leave, he was an absolute cot case.
Yet, here he stood without an ounce of worry nor distress. She wouldn’t be leaving the TARDIS. Not his Rose.
“I’m serious,” she countered, with a louder voice. “Take me home now .”
He paused, looking up at her with fury in his eyes and his face in a subtle tension. The Oncoming Storm was present in the room, and mingling with the Time Lord Victorious; a dangerous mix. She was looking at him the same way she did when he regenerated the first time, confused and convinced it wasn’t really him, and he hated it. He needed her to see that this was who he really was—not some coward stuck in survivor’s guilt and self-loathing. She needed to stop staring at him like that immediately before he lost his fucking mind.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he muttered, sniffing and sending them into the vortex. Rose furrowed her brow at his face briefly. Mixed amongst the fury… it looked like he was on the verge of tears. His eyes were glassy and red, wide and tense. He looked distraught. Part of her yearned to reach out to him; comfort him. What had happened out there? Something had changed him.
Realising what he had said to her, distracted momentarily by her empathetic instincts, she snapped back into her defiant state.
“Doctor, take me home!” she shouted, gathering all the courage she had and holding on for dear life.
“No,” he replied, simply, the authority and sense of self confidently rolling off of him. She glared at him, storming over when he turned his back on her. She charged with her finger raised and pointed. How dare he think he can do this to her? Changed back or not, she was getting far away from him.
“You’re taking me back this instant , you stupid arse—” He turned without warning, snatching her wrist with one hand and grabbing her arm laying at her side, pinning it to her chest as he yanked her towards him. His eyes were alive with fury, anger, and fire, lips pulled into a snarl and brow furrowed into an intense look of wrath.
“You belong to me and you’re not going anywhere!” he seethed. “You’re mine and you will stay unless I say otherwise. I refuse to lose you,” he declared loudly. Rose refused to be intimated, thrashing against his grip and trying to break free.
“LET ME GO HOME!” she screamed in his face, pissed off beyond comprehension.
“ THIS IS YOUR HOME! ” he yelled back at her, right in her face. “Your mother is another dimension , Ricky the idiot has gone and married Martha—he’ll be far too busy for you—and the Powell Estate is no longer an option for you,” he reminded her, eyes burning into her soul. “The TARDIS and I are all you have,” he whispered harshly, coldness and venom dripping from his voice, fingers digging into her skin like a vice, surely forming bruises.
He let her go, and she darted away from him, looking back with tears and fear in her eyes.
“Who the fuck are you?” she spat, disgusted and horrified at the person he was.
He merely stared back at her, shoulders trembling with emotion and face still tight with anger. How dare she test his authority; question his character? He had won the Time War. He had control over this whole universe, and the others, her included. Rose was his precious girl, and she was all that he needed. If she refused to stand with him in this, be his partner… However, one part of him looked upon himself with disgust. What was he doing? He was scaring his Rose. Something he never wished to do. He was grabbing her; yelling in her face; keeping her against her will.
But she wasn’t understanding, his Victorious self murmured in his ear. She couldn’t see . See their destiny; their reward; their right. She needed to understand. She needed to be his queen of Time with him.
“What happened out there?” she asked with a quivering voice, trying to be empathetic. Perhaps if she got him to tell her what happened, she could get her Time Lord back. She could get him to see what he was doing currently wasn’t him. “What happened on Mars?”
“Do you remember how I told you that humans got to Mars in the end? The Bowie base?” he asked, his voice quiet and broken, almost like a child.
“Yeah,” she confirmed quietly, every choice and move she made was selected with precision and care. She didn’t want to set him off.
“Guess what day I landed on Mars,” he explained, his voice harbouring both pride and terror. Rose tensed up. The Doctor had told her what the team’s fate was. If he was talking about ruling the universe… keeping her with him and refusing to lose her…
“What did you do, Doctor?” she questioned, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. Gentle. Sympathetic.
“I saved them,” he explained with a trembling smile that faltered as quickly as it appeared, arms stretch out wide. “Well, I tried to save everyone. I saved three of them in the end,” he answered.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He had interfered with a fixed point in time. Going against every rule he had.
“Doctor… that’s a fixed point in time,” she pointed out.
“That’s what I’m saying, Rose!” he exclaimed with excitement and elation. “I’m the Last, so why can’t I make the universe a better place? What’s stopping me from ridding Time and Space of its atrocities and horrors? Do you know what I could do with this authority? I could save your father, I could bring your mum back; bring over your baby brother.” Rose stared at him with a distorted look on her face. She was horrified. He frowned at this. Why wasn’t she pleased? Couldn’t his Rose see how wonderful, how brilliant this was?
He approached her, cupping her face again, and she flinched a little, making his frown deepen. Was she afraid of him? What did she have to be afraid of?
“I could— I could stop you from ever dating Jimmy Stone and you could get your A Levels…” he offered desperately, trying to convince her to see the good in this. “I could—”
“But I would’ve never ended up in Henrick’s, and I never would’ve met you,” she whispered with a shaky voice. “But perhaps that’s for the best… because I don’t want anything to do with this thing you’ve become,” she spat out, pulling away. His fists clenched at the lost of her touch.
The Doctor was now the one trembling with terror. She didn’t want to be with him? She didn’t want him?
“Rose… my precious Rose, please ,” he whimpered.
“Do you even hear yourself?” she demanded in a hiss. “Do you remember what happened when I tried to save my dad? Do you remember how you kicked out Adam after he got that stupid implant? How can you say you’re going to do all these unbelievable things, rewrite history, when it goes against everything you stand for? Everything we stand for?” she barked out, infuriated beyond comprehension.
“Because I know what I’m doing,” he countered in a weak tone.
“NO YOU DON’T!” she yelled, making him flinch. Rose rarely raised her voice at him, and he didn’t like it. “There is absolutely no way for you to know if what you’re doing is the right thing when you’re messing with history,” she said.
“Rose—” he begged, knees shaking and threatening to hit the floor.
“Do you even know what saving those people has done to history? Have you checked?” she demanded.
“No,” he admitted in shame.
“Check what you’ve done to Time, and then tell me if you still want to go around messing with it,” she snarled. The Doctor gazed at her with consideration. Ever since Bad Wolf, Rose had developed a sensitivity to Time and Space, he had noted. Whenever she said something was wrong, it always turned out to be wrong. Why should he doubt his Rose now, he asked himself?
Because she’s just an ape. You’re a Time Lord.
Be quiet, he growled to himself.
He turned to the console and began his search. He found the Bowie Base incident with ease and scanned through the document. Tears reached his eyes when he found out what Adelaide did.
“I’ve gone too far,” he croaked out, gripping the edge of the console and clenching his eyes shut.
“Hey… it’s okay,” she soothed as she approached, ready to comfort her love.
“ No ,” he growled out, looking at her with fire in his eyes. “Do you not understand what I’ve done, Rose? I’ve permanently changed a fixed point in time ,” he emphasised. “This isn’t like your dad—a mistake, an accident. Something correctable. I knew what I was doing. I went mad with power ,” his voice cracked as he broke into a sob, holding his face in his hands. She immediately went to her lover, holding him as he crumpled to the floor.
“I’ve got you, love,” she promised.
“I shouldn’t have gone,” he cried. “I should’ve… I should’ve stayed with you, or brought you with me. I can’t be trusted on my own,” he whimpered, clutching onto her bedclothes tightly. Rose didn’t know what to say, just doing what she did best. She held him and soothed him.
“It’s alright…” she whispered in his ear, pressing kisses onto his head as he squeezed her tighter and trembled underneath her embrace. Suddenly, he flinched, looking behind her.
“Is it time?” he murmured to himself. “My death?” he questioned. A look of fear crossed over his face. “No. Not now, please not now. Not like this. Not in front of her.”
“Can you see him?” Rose asked gently, noticing the way the Doctor’s eyes kept jumping behind her. She knew of the Ood. His attention returned to her and gave a small nod. “Do you need to do anything, or is it to be left alone?” she murmured, referring to Mars.
“Everything… is done,” he confirmed.
“Let’s go to bed, and tomorrow, we can talk. We can work through this,” she encouraged. He nodded, allowing himself to be guided by her as she lifted him up to his feet and urged him to their bedroom.
She undressed him, then brought him underneath the covers with her. To her surprise, he initiated the cuddle, bringing her close to his chest, shivering in solace as he felt her breath against his chest, inhaled her scent in her hair and skin, and rubbed gentle shapes into her skin. He closed his eyes and appreciated everything about her as she did the same.
“You make me better, Rose Tyler,” he mumbled. “You make me the best person I could possibly be.”
“You do too.” She felt him smile against her hair. “We can get through this together. We’ll make things right whichever way we can.”
Rose held him as he fell asleep and squeezed her eyes shut tightly as tears rolled down her face. She had to take care of her Doctor and make sure he didn’t repeat these mistakes.