Memories flooded her mind as she stood on the long stretch of sand staring out at the expanse of grayish-blue water.

Clouds veiled the sun, lending an early darkness to the day, and a strong wind reflected the mood of the waves crashing against the shore.

She shivered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself, blonde hair whipping about unchecked and watched as her footprints were washed away by the tide.

Her eyes blurred at the faint mechanical sound that reached her ears, growing louder, and she turned her head away as sand lifted and swirled about, tears streaming down her face.

He'd returned.

For the stretch of moments before the door to that wonderful, miraculous, blue, wooden box opened, Rose relived the past few years.

Those years spent reconstructing a life in an ordinary world, alone. Secretly hoping, wishing and praying he'd do the impossible.



Their voices cried in unison as they ran towards each other. Years apart suddenly dropping away and were forgotten in smiles and tears as they embraced. The Doctor whirled Rose around with childish glee, his coat billowing out as they spun and unmindful of his wet trainers.

Nothing else mattered, for the moment, their moment. Their reunion.

All too soon, Rose realized that her dreams come true were just that—dreams, too good to be true.

She'd be brave, she told herself, sniffing and wiping at her nose. After all, she'd learned to live without him once. She could do it again. She could do anything, he'd taught her that.

Rose forced a smile, reminding herself he wasn't human. He was an alien, and aliens didn't have the same concept of emotions that silly apes had.

It was then the impossible happened.

Her Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, hands thrust deep in his front pockets, trench coat splayed behind him and rocking back on his heels. His head was tilted in that curiously goofy and innocent style he had.

Rose took a step back, looking from the Doctor standing before her in a brown pin-striped suit, to the Doctor in front of the TARDIS, dressed in blue and beaming widely at her.

"It's okay, Rose," the first Doctor assured her. "It's me, really, truly, me. Both of me," he grinned that mega-watt smile. "A clone. Exact replica. One-hundred percent, well—not exactly, more like eighty-seven percent me. But, still me." His words tumbled over themselves as he tried to explain, and the blue-suited entity strolled nearer.

"Hello," he exclaimed, his right hand raised and fingers waggling as enthusiastically as his hair danced.

"I wanted to stay, but I couldn't," the first Doctor said, launching into a scientific-explanation about time paradoxes and such which would have baffled even the top scientists of any times.

It was at this moment that Rose's world faded, slowly turning to black.

Rose blinked, opening her eyes to find herself staring into familiar brown eyes. "Doctor," she cried, throwing her arms around the blue-suited Doctor. "You won't believe the nightmare I just had."

"Oh, I think I might," he answered quietly.

"You left, and I thought I'd lost you forever."

"If there's one thing you've taught me, Rose, it's that nothing is impossible."

Still holding him tightly, Rose took in her surroundings and the nightmare shifted back to reality. "But—"

He pressed a finger to her lips, slowly shaking his head while holding her gaze. "I'll explain later," he said.

Leaping to his feet, he pulled her up and off the bed. "First, there's something you have to see." His enthusiasm was irresistible as he tugged her hand, urging her to walk faster.

She followed him through the house and out into the back garden, to the corner of the house where the rose bush that never bloomed resided.

"Wha—" Rose stood speechless, her hand entwined in the Doctor's and stared at the delicate blooms of iridescent roses that shimmered like rainbows as they caught the sunlight.

"Gallifreyan roses," the Doctor said as he faced Rose, taking her other hand. "They only bloom in the presence of true love."