"Mum, someone's lookin' at ya funny."

"What, Noah?" Apples, her favourite. Bananas, because the boy was a monkey. Noah followed two steps behind his mother as they weaved through the grocer's aisles. He occasionally told her the average calculated mass, in Newtons, of the produce items. He also occasionally pretended to be a dinosaur. The boy was only seven, after all.

"No, Mum. A stranger. Look."

Noah had a habit of making mountains out of mole hills, but his voice was just a little too insistent for this to be nothing. She trusted his judgement; maybe someone was leering at her. Sighing, Rose looked up. Her breath caught in her throat. A man in pinstripes with familiar eyes gave a soft smile and tilted his head in the direction of the door. Another glance at the boy, and his long strides carried him out to the street.

Rose held her breath, counted to five, and let it out in a whoosh. Noah's hair ruffled. He was standing just before her. "Mum?" Dark brown eyes and fluffy rusty-brown hair looked at his mother like she was a differential equation. Rose wanted to cry, he looked so like his father.

"Noah," her words were quiet and rushed and Rose tried very hard to be convincing. "Noah, I love you, so much." She squatted down a little, so they were eye to eye.

Concern vanished for all of three seconds from his features, and his face split into his father's manic grin. "Love ya too, Mum." But then, the crinkle was back in his brow and he was back to worry. "But who was that man? Why was he looking at us?"

Rose steadied her hands on her thighs. "He's… He's someone special, angel." Rise took a deep breath. Is this really happening? "Now, let's go, Noah." She took his hand as she stood up, fingers brushing through his unruly hair.

"But, Mum, the shopping!" His voice was nothing but confusion. "Where are we going? You're bonkers. Mum!" Rose just walked out of the store, Noah huffing in her wake.

"Sometimes, big fella, some things are more important than the shopping," Rose said as she scanned the carpark, eyes looking for something so familiar that the memory hurt. Across the street, in a children's playplace, under an ancient oak tree, the Doctor and the TARDIS were waiting.

Rose was doing her very best to stay calm. What if this was an illusion? Couldn't have been, Noah saw him, too. How in the name of Rassilon was she going to explain all of this? Counting her breaths with her footsteps, she spoke to Noah. "Remember how I've always told you you're special, angel?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, this is sort of the reason. You're made of star-stuff, young man. And I'm going to try to explain it." They waited at the crosswalk, and Noah fidgeted with his mother's fingers. "I know it's always just been you and me, and Gran and Paps. But the story's a little bit bigger than just us, okay?"

Noah squeezed her hand. He was listening, taking it all in. With his brain, he probably already knows what I'm gonna say, Rose thought absently. They approached the gate of the playpark, and Rose stopped, dropping low to speak to her son.

"Noah, Savoir of Animals, King of the Tower, go play, mate. I'll come get you in just a mo', after I speak with the gentleman, okay? And please," she kissed his forehead and laughed, "don't climb higher in the trees than you can get down from, okay? Let's not have to call Paps again."

Noah looked at her very carefully. "Are you sure?" Rose sighed. So much older than his seven years, he was.

"Yes sir." Rose said, wide eyes and a smile falsely bright. "I need to find out if that man is who I think he is."

Noah's brow was still creased. "Who do you think he is?"

Rose considered this carefully. "I think he's a friend. A long-lost friend." She sighed and then said, with enthusiasm, "Go! Explore! Don't come back until you've discovered something." And away he went, running pell-mell to the duck pond. Rose suddenly wished that Noah was just tiny again, and she could have held him to her for this conversation. It's been almost eight years, but he's back. He might have just come back. These thoughts in mind, Rose put one foot in front of the other, and walked towards the old oak tree and the older man sitting beneath it.

The Doctor was leaning against the tree trunk by the time Rose approached. His eyes were warm and dark and just a little bit curious. Rose's breath was stuck in her chest and her heart was beating a wild, staccato rhythm under her ribs. She stopped just outside of his reach. What if he's not real? What if…

"Rose." The Doctor closed his eyes when he said her name, if only just for a flash of a second. Rose, in turn, swore to herself that she wasn't going to cry. First things first, she thought.

"Are you real?" Only just louder than a whisper, it left her lips. "Are you really here?"

He took a step forward, hands in fists deep in his trench pockets. He ducked his head, letting out a breath as he looked back at her. "I never thought I'd hear your voice again." One more step; a hand out of its pocket, reaching towards her own. "Very real, Rose. I'm back."

She took his hand in hers, only just their fingers in touch. "How long? Doctor, how long do we have?"

He tugged on her fingers gently, pulling her into his orbit. He smelled like leather and stars. She reached up and touched his face, the stubble no different than it had ever been. He smiled under her fingers and used her own words against her. "Forever, Rose."

She sucked in a massive breath, and her chest heaved with the news. Holding his hand in both of hers, she fought tears. The Doctor pulled her in close to him, tucked her face into the crevice between his neck and chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her and he breathed in the smell of her hair. Tears slipped form Rose's closed eyes and trailed wetly down the Doctor's neck. He held her closer, and fiercely whispered, "I never stopped loving you. Not for one minute, Rose. Not once."

Rose held back a sob as best she could, and looked back up at the Doctor, eyes unreadable. "I love you. So much."

He kissed her forehead, and then once chastely on the lips, just to prove to himself that this happiness was his to hold. "C'mere," he said softly. They walked to the bench under the tree, matched stride for stride. The Doctor threw his trench over the armrest at one end, and settled comfortably. Rose sat down beside him, his hand still between hers in her lap. The Doctor had a strangely blank face, while Rose half-heartedly wiped at her eyes. She played with the Doctor's long, slender fingers in the silence, hands that hadn't aged a day in almost eight years. Eventually, he shook off her fingers and contented rubbed his palm along her thigh. Then, with a big breath, he cleared his throat.

His voice was quiet and light when he spoke. "So, who's he?"

Rose felt like her veins filled with ice in that moment, the shock was so sharp. First things first, she thought again. You knew this would come.

Rose took a breath, and her tongue peeked out to touch her lips. She chewed her lower lip for just a moment, and then, bravely said, "I lied."

The Doctor wasn't expecting that answer. He turned his body to look at her properly. Rose's posture was as straight as he'd ever seen it, and her eyes were distant – focused on the little boy who was sitting under another tree just beside the pond, the little boy who seemed to have every single bird in the park fluttering around him. A trio of chickadees land on his shoulders and the boy shook with laughter, ruffling the birds, who shift and peep madly at the action. "What?"

Rose ignored his question, smiling broadly at the child. "He loves animals." There was pride in her voice. "And they love him. Noah, the Savior of the Animals." She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear – she'd let it grow long, the Doctor noted – and looked at him nervously. "The last time I saw you," Rose whispered, "I lied."

"Rose." The Doctor's voice didn't give anything away. He looked at her carefully and didn't say anything else.

"You remember what we said?" Her eyes were hopeful. He could see it on her face, she was scared.

"Every word." Not a lie. They were etched into his memory and his nightmares from their time apart.

"It wasn't my mum." She said softly. Rose couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. "Mum wasn't pregnant." There were new tears, but Rose wouldn't let them out.

He has to understand. Please, God. Please. And he did, but these were words he had to hear Rose say. Rose took another deep breath and for a moment, wished that he would hold her hand. "It was me." There. Out there, said aloud. Rose fought to keep the tears at bay, her eyes staring straight at the ground between her feet.

The Doctor's question hadn't changed. "Who is he?" He touched Rose's chin, and brought her eyes back up to his. His voice was soft. Quiet. Surprisingly gentle.

She looked him square in the eye and said without reservation, "He's yours."

He held his breath and leaned back against the bench. Yours. Your son. Except for those words, his mind was almost entirely empty. Not shock, no, but something else. Something else had taken hold of both his hearts. Rose mistook his silence.

"You can leave," she whispered. The tears were flowing unchecked from her eyes. The Doctor's face whipped around to look at her.

"What?"

"He doesn't know who you are." Rose said, her voice detached from her heart. "I mean, he knows about you. I told him so many stories, Doctor. So many adventures. I told him he's made of star-stuff." She laughed sadly. "So, he knows you. He knows he's loved." She looked at the Doctor again. "But, as of right now, he doesn't know who the bloke on the bench is." She tucked her hair behind her ears, again – nervous tick, thought the Doctor – and looked at him levelly. "So, if this is too much…" Her voice trailed off when she looked at her son in the distance, now up to his ankles in pond water. "You can leave."

The Doctor felt like the wind had been cleanly knocked out of him. He gaped at Rose, his eyes almost angry. He stopped himself before he said anything, gauging the reaction on Rose's face. "Do you want me to?" The words were barely whispered. They may not have even been said at all.

Her face fell, and she reached out to him. "No!" She whimpered against his chest. "It's the last thing I want, Doctor." She looked up at him, eyes sincere. "But a son is probably the last thing you'd imagined you'd come back to."

The Doctor wrapped his arms around her where she was, ear pressed above one of his hearts. "You're right, Rose." She let out a long exhale, and made to move off of him, but the Doctor held her closer. "He's the last thing…" The Doctor cleared his throat and started again, his voice thick. "But I'm here, and I'm not leaving you again. Do you know how hard I worked? Oh, Rose…" He whispered these words into her hair and rubbed his palm up and down her arm. They sat like that for several minutes, the Doctor with his eyes closed, breathing her in, and Rose, listening to his heartsbeat and watching Noah in the near distance. She glanced at her watch, and noticed that Noah had started to wander a little closer to them, occasionally looking at his mother and pretending he wasn't.

Rose sat up in the Doctor's arms, and he looked out of one eye at her. "What do you say," she stretched, rolling her shoulders, "we make some introductions?"

The Doctor opened his other eye and sat up more fully, the setting sun catching golden spots in his dark hair. Elbows on knees and hands clasped together, he looked at the boy. "He'll not run away screaming, will he?"

Rose laughed. "Oh, you're daft. Always have been, Doctor. No, I think he'll be over-trilled, especially if he's already figured you out."

"Whatcha mean?"

"He's got your superior Time Lord brains, for damn sure."

This was a new consideration. The Doctor hadn't even considered to ask. He looked at Rose and asked quietly, "How many hearts does he have?"

Rose let a wide, shy smile. "Two," she whispered.

He leaned back against the bench once more, and laughed with a full happiness he hadn't felt in years. This Time Lord was no longer very lonely, and was no longer the very, very last.