Title: Unsaid

Author: Gail R. Delaney

Series: The Unseen and In Between

Setting: During and after Doomsday

Genre: ANGST

Rating: PG-13 overall

Disclaimer: Not mine. If I owned Doctor Who, Christopher Eccleston and David Tennant would be my own private little playmates.

Summary: Say the things you want to say while you can.

Author's Note: I've been waiting to write Doomsday and everything there after in The Unseen and In Between series until after watching the end of Series 4. And all I'm going to say on the subject is this… the final scene in Journey's End is soooooooo not how this series is going down. I don't know when I'll finish the next bit – but it might be a long time coming because a lot has to be covered, and I don't want to post until I'm done to make sure all the parts are in order.

Oh… and my sincere apologies. Please don't hunt me down and hurt me when you finish this fic. Otherwise, I won't be able to write the conclusion. Keep that in mind.

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"I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never going to leave you."

There were very few times in nine hundred plus years that the Doctor had been rendered unable to speak, unable to respond to whatever might be said or might happen with a glib or clever remark. But, to face Rose Tyler, and hear her say that she would give up everything… for him… to be with him… he was lost.

"So, what can I do to help?"

She should have just gone… should have been safe. And part of him raged at the idea that she would risk her life for him.

Systems rebooted. Open access.

"Those coordinates over there. Set them all to six."

She moved past him, and he heard her release a soft, shuttered breath.

"And hurry up!" he snapped.

She probably didn't know he watched her as she moved to the console he'd indicated. Didn't know he saw the shake of her hands as she removed the dimension jumping device, probably taking it off to make sure he didn't try to send her back again. Her eyes shifted to look at him, he felt her gaze linger only momentarily on his back.

He bent over the keys of another terminal, the codes already running like a marquis in his head, but his fingers didn't move. He heard the clicking of her nails on the key, and curled his fingers, reaching out mentally to gently feel her.

Fear. Panic. Sorrow. They all laced with her determination. And beneath it… pushing through all the individual thoughts and feelings… was doubt.

He left the terminal, crossing to her as she bent over the desk, not looking up when he stood directly beside her. Her fingers moved quickly, doing exactly what he asked without needing to be shown how.

"I'm almost done."

"Rose." She continued to work, doing just what he'd said to do. He waited until he saw her enter the last coordinate before saying her name again. "Rose."

"I'm done," she said quickly. "What do you need next?"

He laid his hand on her shoulder, his thumb stroking the soft knit. "I need you to look at me."

She straightened, and as she moved to look up at him, he laid his other hand against her cheek and turned her face to him, kissing her. Rose gasped softly against his mouth, but didn't hesitate to lean into him and part her lips for him. Her hand slid over his, holding it in place against her cheek.

The Doctor kissed her slowly, even though the thundering rhythm of warning thumped in the back of his mind. Hurry! Hurry! No time!

Neither wanted to just end the kiss, the long, deep contact punctuated with several shorter kisses as each returned again for just a little more. He rested his forehead against hers, his palm still on her cheek as their breath mingled. The Doctor inhaled, letting her scent fill his senses.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I shouldn't have…" He swallowed, keeping his eyes closed because he didn't want to pull away from her. "You shouldn't have come back. You need to be safe."

Her fingertips stroked his cheek, her thumb across his lip, and he finally opened his eyes and shifted back enough to focus on her features. "I need to be with you."

"Your mother—"

She laid two fingers on his lips. "Mum will be fine. And I've heard you say impossible enough times to hold hope."

She stood up on her toes and kissed him even as the computer twittered that it required their attention. Her fingers stroked over his ear and along his cheek, urging him closer. Her mental touch reached out to him just as her hands did, and he felt in the contact everything that neither needed to say.

"Let's finish this up, yeah?" Her voice was rough, promising.

"Yeah." He smiled and kissed her once again – quick and short – before returning to his terminal.

He no sooner finished updating the system when Rose called his name. "We've got Cybermen on the way up."

In minutes… they would all be in hell.

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Doctor! Bring me back! Bring me back!

Through the wall, her grief came in waves despite the quickly forming seal.

Rose.

He had always known it would hurt when she left him, and had braced himself against it earlier when he sent her away. But, to have her ripped from him was something so different and so much more painful.

Rose, you'll be with me forever.

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London was in chaos in the wake of Canary Wharf. People wandered the street, searching for loved ones that might still be alive. The cries of some woman that the Doctor couldn't see carried through the Powell Estate apartments, wailing and lamenting for someone named Eddie.

Three days before, he would have looked out over the destruction and whisper a heartfelt "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry". He would have meant it. Three days ago.

Today… there was nothing.

He sat at the small table in the Tyler flat, staring at the plastic film wrapped plate of biscuits Jackie had sealed before they left for the TARDIS what seemed a lifetime ago. They hadn't been especially good biscuits, but to appease Jackie and make Rose smile, he'd eaten them with his tea.

They would be stale now, wrapped or not.

Beside the plate was the Bezoolium bauble they had bought for Jackie in that little market where he went looking for mercury filters. He laid his hand over it, and the trinket was cold. It would rain soon.

He lifted his hand, the trinket held in the cup of his palm, and slammed it down onto the wooden surface. It cracked and broke into three pieces.

Loud footsteps approached the open flat door and three young men rumbled in, oblivious to the pain and destruction that had rampaged the city. They laughed and shoved each other until one of them saw him, and they stopped.

He lifted his head, leveling his gaze on them. He knew what they saw… and he did nothing to temper the rage. "Get out."

One of them swaggered forward, a typical punk with his hood pulled up over his head and a cocky grin on his face. The Doctor didn't even give him the chance to say anything. He leaped to his feet and took two steps, that was all.

"Get. Out!"

They stumbled over each other to escape the flat, leaving him standing in hall entrance, and he had to reach for the wall to keep on his feet. Lack of food… lack of sleep… lack of… Rose… all had him drained.

Leaning against the wall, he saw the open door to Jackie's bedroom, and across the hall, Rose's bedroom where she hadn't slept in months. Not since the Christmas he'd regenerated. Since then, whenever they were in this flat, she had come to him and slept in their bed.

He drew a shaky breath, swallowing hard.

Without making the conscious decision to do so, and without remembering the steps it took to get him there, the Doctor stood in Rose's bedroom. The bed was made — bright pink blankets and fluffy pillows — and tchotchki and bits of her past were stacked on the bookshelves. There were photographs of Rose with Mickey and Shireen, and other people he had no names for. It all seemed so out of place… none of it belonged to her anymore.

He took two steps backward before turning and crossing the hall to Jackie's bedroom. This is where they'd laid him out when he couldn't complete his regeneration. He'd recovered in this bed, and yet he had little to no memory of it. The bed was unmade and clothing scattered the floor, and the Doctor knew where Rose got her sloppiness.

He loved her sloppiness.

A small bookshelf sat against the wall at the end of the bed and the Doctor sat on the gaudy print duvet, staring at the contents. There were at least a dozen photo albums stacked against each other. One caught his eye first, a pink and ruffled concoction that he pulled free from the others. The album had obviously been hand decorated with frills and strings of fake pearls with a picture in the center of the cover with a little bald infant wearing a pink sleeper. Embroidered into the puffy cover was the name Rose Marion Tyler.

The Doctor opened the book, the binding creaking, and looked at each picture in great detail. There were pictures of a much younger Jackie, and a Pete Tyler with ginger hair, holding Rose… giving Rose a bath… just playing with Rose. There were pictures of Rose alone and Rose with stuffed animals. Eventually, the pictures with Pete stopped and the Doctor knew he was gone by then.

Keeping the book in his lap, he reached for the next one. He spent the next three hours studying the picture chronicles of Rose's life before she took his hand and went off to see the universe. He smiled at a picture from Christmas 1999, with Rose standing beside the red bicycle he had left for her. She beamed, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed from the cold, sitting astride the bike.

Even then, the TARDIS had been nudging them together. Somehow, she knew what Rose would bring into his life. And how she would save him. Redeem him. Make him better.

Finally, only one album remained. The stack in his lap was cumbersome now, and he set the books on the floor between his feet, taking the final book of memories from the shelf. This album was simple, with no frills or decorations, and the way the pages lay close together, he knew it wasn't full. The first picture caught him completely by surprise, which wasn't something he often admitted to.

Cardiff. He knew exactly where the picture had been taken. Outside that little restaurant overlooking the water where he had taken Rose and Jack, and Mickey had come along. He wondered... Mickey had to have taken the picture. No one else would have, and no one else would have given it to Jackie. It felt like a lifetime ago, and in all actuality it had been just about a year, maybe a year and a half - linearly.

They stood outside the restaurant, probably waiting to go in. Jack must have seen the camera, because he was hamming it up with his smile that had seduced sentient beings throughout space and time. But, the Doctor hadn't been paying attention... nor had Rose. Perhaps if they had, they may have tried to shield their expressions more. Seeing himself now... even with the short cropped hair, big ears and hesitant grin... he saw in his eyes that had been blue then the truth of the depth and volume of what he felt for Rose.

He hand her hand, standing close enough to her that their linked fingers were hidden between their bodies, only seen if you looked closely. And she looked up at him, the breeze blowing bits of blonde hair across her cheeks, her lips bowed in a smile that she reserved only for him. With an almost painful flash, he remembered...

"You're going to get us in trouble, you keep lookin' at me that way."

"What way is that, Rose?"

She leaned closer so that her words carried on the breeze between them and someone would have to be standing just as close to know what she said. Her eyes drifted down to focus on his mouth, her tongue teasing the inside of her own lip before she spoke. The action mesmerized him, and he slid a glance sideways to make sure Jack and Mickey The Idiot hadn't turned their attention away from their goofing. Jack was playing the dandy pin up for Mickey's camera.

"Like you want me," Rose said in a rough whisper that made his senses crackle.

He leaned closer, turning his head so it might look like he was looking out over the water. "I do want you." The Doctor looked back into her face, wanting to see the change in her eyes and the flush as it bloomed in her cheeks. With a perfectly natural expression, he said slowly and with the sole intent to make her heart beat faster. "I want to be inside you, Rose." Her breath hitched softly, and that beautiful tip of her tongue ran along her lips that had been dried by the breeze. But he wasn't done yet. He smiled casually, as if whatever he had to say was nothing important... inconsequential. "I want to feel your fantastic breasts bounce against my chest as I move inside you. I want your legs wrapped around me. I want your nails digging into my back."

Her eyes fluttered shut and she released a slow, metered breath. "Not. Fair."

The Doctor released her hand and slid his palm around her hips, over her bottom, to the high hem of her short skirt. He curled his hand around the back of her thigh and moved his palm higher until his thumb brushed her bottom. He pulled her tighter against him, and she gasped softly.

"Can you tell how much I want you, Rose?"

"Hey, no whispering you two," Jack declared loudly, clamping a hand down on the Doctor's shoulder.

The Doctor held her gaze for four whole heartbeats before looking away. "Our table ready yet. I'm famished."

The Doctor closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Different face. Different body. But, the him of then and the him of now both reacted the same way to Rose... hot and hard and needy. Only now, there was no Rose.

And there would be no relief.

He forced himself to turn the page, and realized the intent of this album. It was Jackie's way of holding on to Rose in any way she could. That was the only picture of Rose with his former face, probably because Jackie didn't like him much then. Well, like had been a strong word even when she'd accepted him. More like she 'hated him a little less' in his newer form.

There were pictures from the previous Christmas, once he'd recovered from his botched regeneration. These seemed to be the most copious, probably because humans had a tendency to go shutter-happy around holidays. Jackie had taken a ridiculous picture of him wearing a paper crown with his specs on. He looked… he wanted to say he looked like a fool. But, he just looked happy.

In any picture that Rose knew her mother had the camera, her smile was bright and she was having fun. But, Jackie managed to catch one moment where Rose was off guard… and her eyes were on him. He had hoped then that she would accept his new face, his new body, but the trepidation in her eyes in that one moment showed how much she hadn't.

In this body, they'd spent just about as much time 'apart' although living together in the TARDIS as they had spent together again. So much time wasted.

There were more pictures of random visits. And in each one, she managed to capture a moment between them that was free for all to see, yet private at the same time.

He wondered if everyone saw what he saw when he looked at them together.

When the pictures became hard to see, he realized that the sun had set and the flat was in darkness. He stood, his tired body protesting against the simple action. He would take the TARDIS into the Vortex and float, regaining his strength. But, there was still more to be done. He stepped, and his foot toppled the pile of albums and he let them slide across the floor.

The only light in the flat was the light streaming in from the street where power had been restored. Another 24 hours and the city would be under control again and the task of documenting the dead would begin. He'd already left the names of Jackie and Rose Tyler to be recorded as two who were lost.

Lost.

But not dead.

He made it as far as the hall before the turned and crossed the bedroom in three long strides, scooping up the albums.