This Is What I Would Give
His beloved coat from Janis Joplin.
Bananas.
The possibility of ever being ginger.
Those little hospital shops.
As the Doctor hides away in a dark alley in a place he once called home, he takes in the feeling of the snowy wind against his face. He remembers just a few Christmas’ back when he stood just a few feet away with a Rose Tyler who took his hand.
Edible ball bearings.
His psychic paper.
All his trainers.
Just down the road he can hear voices, familiar voices he instantly recognizes. They talk about a car breaking down, something about dating a mechanic, something about finding someone out there one day. His hearts stop. Even standing this close to their flat, he hadn’t actually expected to see her. Wasn’t sure he could handle it.
His heightened senses.
His telepathic abilities.
Then she’s there, right in front of him. That perfect blonde hair, those pink cheeks, those soft lips. He gets just a glimpse of her before she passes him by.
And then with the worst of luck, the Doctor feels a strong pang take over his body. “Ugh,” he bends over, unable to keep the pain within his lips.
“You alright mate?”
His eyes dart up. It doesn’t matter that he’s still in an immense amount of pain. It doesn’t matter that he’s moments away from bursting into flames of energy. It doesn’t even matter that she doesn’t know who he is. All that matters is that she’s talking to him, looking at him, seeing him.
His sonic screwdriver.
“Yeah,” he answers quickly.
“Too much to drink?”
“Something like that.”
His extensive knowledge on the universe.
“Maybe it’s time you went home.”
“Yeah,” he pretends to agree. How could she know he wasn’t already home just by being here with her?
His superior physiology.
His respiratory bypass.
“Anyway happy new year,” she gives him a small smile, an ordinary one – if there is such a thing as an ordinary Rose Tyler smile.
“And you,” he returns.
She turns away, heading for the door of her building. His hearts stop beating, as if her existence was the only thing grounding him to life in that moment.
His servitude to time.
“What year is this?” he blurts out in spite of himself. This was dangerous, this was a bad idea, this was something he would warn every one of his companions against. But the second she turns back around and her face is once more in his view, well, he knows it’s a risk he’ll never regret taking.
His regenerative abilities.
His non-domestic life.
“Blimey, how much have you had?” she gifts him the smallest chuckle.
“Oh.” Just enough radiation to kill a planet, he adds in his mind.
The safety of two universes.
“2005, January the first,” she answers.
The safety of every universe.
“2005?” he asks. He laughs to himself as he sees the briefest of annoyed looks pass over her face. It would only be a few months before strangers would be giving her that same look. He wonders if she will ever think of this moment when she’s the one asking. He wonders how long this memory will last in her mind. He wonders if she’ll ever realize it was him in that memory.
He notices her waiting, as if she’s expecting him to continue. Of course there are a million things he wants to say to her now.
No one gives hugs like you. You’re hand is my favorite to hold. I wish I never had to leave you. You saved me. You made everything better. You are the most important being in my life. I will always believe in you. Even if I live to be infinity, I will never forget you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Rose Tyler, I love you.
But he can’t say any of that now. So with the most bittersweet of smiles, he gives her a promise instead. “Tell you what, I bet you’re gonna have a really great year.”
And even though he can’t tell her what he wants to, and even though it tears him apart knowing that he will never again have the chance to share any of it with her, and even though he can’t help but feel a deep regret boiling down in the pit of his stomach… it’s worth it. Because in that moment Rose gives him the smile he’s been longing for ever since that day on Bad Wolf Bay. That classic, toothy, joyous grin he likes to think was only ever reserved for him. His hearts melt.
“Yeah?” she asks, her eyes shining nearly as bright as they did when she rescued him on Satellite Five.
He only gives her a quick nod of confirmation as he studies her face one last time (or is it one first time?).
The TARDIS.
Then as if it were any other day, as if she knew she would see him again tomorrow, she tells him, “See ya.” And with a newly found hop in her step and that smile still plastered all over her face, Rose turns back to go inside.
This time the Doctor doesn’t stop her. He wants his last memory of Rose, and her first memory of him, to be that smile. If he has to say goodbye to a Rose Tyler who doesn’t know who he is, this is the way it should be.
He watches as she pulls the door open and runs inside. He watches as she glances at him one more time, wondering what she’s possibly thinking. He watches as she disappears into her future and his past. He feels his smile fade with each further step she takes away from him. He feels the pain blossoming throughout his body again, stronger than before. He remembers it’s time to get back to the TARDIS, and reluctantly he pulls himself away from the Powell Estate.
All of the rest of time and space.
This is what I would give up to be with you just one more moment, Rose Tyler.
