In the living room of the Tyler flat, on top of the telly and next to the digital clock, stood a framed picture of the Doctor. He was leaning, annoyed and bored, against the TARDIS, clearly longing to get away, his electric blue eyes staring distantly up at the sky as he contemplated where to move on to. It was a brilliant picture of him, the Doctor in one of his most "Doctorish" moments.
Rose nearly cried when she saw it.
Mere hours before that photo had been taken, she had been dancing with him, trapped in a dark, concrete hospital room with nothing but a radio to keep her occupied. It had been a joke at first, her asking him to dance, she hadn't expected him to be any good at it. She had given him a cheeky smile as she mentally planned how to use this against him in the future. Men's dancing skills were always brilliant blackmail. Then he had taken her hands, and all thoughts of blackmail left her. His feet didn't actually move for the longest time, he was too busy grilling her about the burns her hands were suppose to have after dangling off a barrage balloon or something, Rose hadn't really been paying attention. The touch of both his hands at once, the thoughtful look on his face, the closeness of their two bodies had all been distracting her from properly answering him. She became suddenly alert, however, when they finally started to dance.
He was an awkward dancer at first, acting as if he didn't quite know what to do or where to go. She remembered wishing he would stop talking so much about Jack or barrage balloons and just enjoy the moment. "Shut up and dance" was what she should have said, "shut up and dance." If only she had known how common the phrase would become around the Doctor in the future. Not that she had really cared too much about the Doctor's chatter then, it was only a minor annoyance. The moment they were together like that, alone in a dark room, their feet moving to the beat of the music, his arms holding her, as brief as the moment had been, it had been utterly fantastic.
Fantastic.
The word brought on about as much despair as the photo. That had been his word. He had said it so many times in nearly every situation, Rose had never been able to keep track. She remembered later on that night, right before they had gone out and posed for a picture for Jack, they had danced again, and again the Doctor had said "fantastic". The lights of the TARDIS were blinking like a brightly lit nightclub while 1940's swing music blared throughout the room. Outside, the ship was inside another ship, one doomed to explode in less then a minute. It was hardly a cause for a party but Rose hadn't cared at all. In his arms, she had felt safe from everything, monsters, and explosions alike. Their dance was everything, nothing else existed. Not in a thing in the universe could harm her in the Doctor's arms. Their dance was perfect.
But now it was gone.
She had watched, intrigued almost, as her dancing partner exploded before her eyes. He had said something was going to happen, something that would keep him from dying, but she hadn't expected this. When the explosion stopped, he was gone, a stranger standing in his place. As much as she didn't want to believe it at the time, that stranger, with his dark brown eyes and wild, unruly hair, was him. This new man was the Doctor, and he couldn't change back.
Rose took the picture off the telly and sat down on the couch. It was long past midnight, the flat was dark and her mother and Mickey were asleep. She had woken up about a half an hour ago and couldn't go back to sleep. He had tried, she gave him credit, to explain that he was still the same person. Desperately he had tried to convince her he was still the same Doctor she had been traveling with for so long now, he even saved the world in his pajamas to prove it. She had pretended to believe him.
This man was nothing like the Doctor. He was tall and skinny, rude and cheeky, and talked far more then anything on earth. He had a perfect smile, one that would have made any of Rose's mates melt into a charmed puddle on the ground. He still saved the world, but he did it differently. He was much more like a dashing hero about it, smiling handsomely and sword fighting while shouting amusing one liners at the enemy. He was every girl's dream except hers. Hers was gone. Her Doctor was gone.
And he was never coming back.
Tears filled her eyes as she stared down at the picture from the telly. This was the Doctor. This man, with his mysteriously distant electric blue eyes was the proper Doctor she was used to. He was her Doctor. The man she had danced with in peril. Without realizing it, she began humming the music she had come to associate him with, the 1940's swing music they had danced to in the TARDIS. She wanted desperately for him to show up in her flat, to take her in his leather jacket laden arms and dance the night away, assuring her he was still alive and well in the universe. She knew he wouldn't though. Her Doctor was gone, and the dead never dance with the living.
A hand suddenly took hers in the darkness. She looked up, still crying, humming and clutching the photo as she did. It was him, the "new Doctor", taking her hand in his and beckoning her to stand with him. She wiped a tear off her face with her other hand and shook her head, continuing to hum the melody of the song. He pulled harder and eventually overpowered her, pulling her upright to face him in the darkness. He took the picture from her hand, looking at it sadly before turning back to Rose. "I know how you feel," he said quietly.
"What?" Rose asked through the tears. He put his finger to his mouth as if to say "don't speak" and took out the sonic screwdriver. Pointing it at the Tyler's stereo, the sound of 1940's swing music quietly filled the room. He re-pocketed the screwdriver, and took Rose's hands in his own, his feet starting to move with the music. Without thinking, her feet moved too, and they started to dance, neither of them speaking as they did.
The feel of it, dancing with this new man, was startlingly similar to dancing with her Doctor. The room around them seemed to dissolve as they moved, leaving only the two of them to dance in the darkness. She found herself moving closer to him, breathing in the man's new yet strangely familiar scent. His arms held her as close as she came, protecting her from the dark and the universe around them. For a moment as she leaned up against him and listened to the music, she forgot who she was dancing with. It seemed so similar, so identical, so close…
And then she saw his eyes.
Deep pools of brown she could easily have gotten lost in. They were hypnotically beautiful, radiating intelligence and mystery, strength and wisdom, happiness and pain. She had never looked this deeply into the Doctor's eyes before, her Doctor's eyes at least, he had never let her. She had caught glimpses of them briefly, a fleeting moment before the Doctor turned away. Even when they had been dancing, he had never looked her straight in the eye. Now, as they danced alone in the center of the Tyler's dark flat, music and the universe surrounding them, he finally let her see his soul.
"I'm sorry Rose," he said suddenly
"Sorry for what?"
"Sorry I never told you, never warned you, forced you to go through this without me," his eyes bore into hers with more intensity, looking deeper into her own eyes, "I'm sorry I can't be the man you want me to be." Rose looked down to the floor at her photo, then back to his eyes. She stared at them again, her beliefs changed and assured.
"I want you to be you," she said smiling, "And this is definitely you, Doctor." He grinned, an ecstatic, relieved grin that proved he had been agonizing over this as much as she had. She leaned up against him, laying her head softly on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. It had been a minor interruption, a small period of doubt between them, and now they were picking up where they left off. As she danced with the Doctor, laying in his arms, she knew again that nothing could harm her.
Nothing could stop their dance.