Not Her Doctor

The Doctor wandered around the TARDIS for the seventh consecutive time.  There wasn’t a whole lot to do—well, actually, there was anything in the universe to do, that he knew. But it just didn’t feel right.  He missed Sarah Jane. He missed Wilfred. He missed Donna, he missed Mickey, he missed Martha, hell, he even missed Jackie, and nothing in his 900 years of existence could have prepared him for how much he missed Rose Tyler.
Rose Tyler. Just thinking of her name sent the shocking pain of grief through both of his hearts.
He found himself in the console room once again.  Tired of moping around the TARDIS, he plopped himself down in the chair, and upon pressing a few buttons, music began to play.
“Huh,” he thought, “1940’s. Not bad.”
As he began humming along to the tune, the name of the song suddenly came to his mind—In the Mood.  After Rose had been bugging him about dancing, and then after he had relearned how to dance, they danced together around the console room. Gosh, that was so long ago. He was a completely different man then.  The memory combined with the day’s events resulted in the doctor staring fixatedly at the radio, silently weeping for his Rose.


Exhausted, Rose Tyler flopped back onto her bed.  She didn’t even bother changing out of her clothes—all she wanted was sleep.
Even with her eyes closed, she knew the person to fall onto the bed after her was the (human) Doctor.  She smiled to herself, knowing that with him by her side, she was safe and cared for.  She turned facing him, eyes still closed, and buried her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and grinned.
“Goodnight, Rose,” he said before drifting off to sleep.
As sleep began to overpower Rose as well, she lay there, listening to the Doctor breathe, his heart beating. One heart. She breathed an imperceptible sigh, thinking once more about how this Doctor was going to grow old with her, was going to be with her always, was human.
But he still wasn’t her Doctor.