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The Doctor stood alone as he stared out over the endless frozen distance. The planet was quiet in the way only cold places could be, not peaceful, not calm, but holding its breath, waiting. Somewhere beyond the jagged mountains, the Ood waited for chains to break, but for now, there was only snow and silence and the ache in his chest that never, ever faded.
He lifted his hand, thumb brushing the cold metal of the dimension cannon strapped to his wrist. A miracle held together by desperation and failing stars. A cheat. A lie against the laws of reality themselves. It had taken everything to make it work, calculations written from the inside of his skull, stolen energy siphoned from collapsing voids, risks he didn’t allow himself to name or dwell on for too long. All for a chance.
A chance.
He closed his eyes.
And then:
VWORP. VWORP.
The sound tore through the frozen plain like lightning splitting ice.
The Doctor’s breath caught in painfully in his chest.
No. No, that was, his hearts slammed against his ribs. His mind rejected it instantly. Violently. Hallucination. Memory. Grief, playing tricks on him again.
The sound came again.
VWORP.
He froze.
Slowly, afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the moment like fragile glass, he turned.
The blue box materialized out of thin air, engines groaning, reality bending around familiar impossible angles. Snow kicked up around its base as it settled, solid and unmistakably real.
The TARDIS.
His TARDIS.
His knees nearly gave out.
The doors burst open and laughter spilled into the cold air, bright and human and unmistakably alive.
Donna Noble stepped out first, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered. “Oh! I know the word,” she complained loudly. “‘Freezing.’ That’s the word. This place is freezing.”
Behind her, Rose Tyler stepped out into the snow.
She was laughing, her breath puffing white in the air, hair catching the wind as she turned to pull the TARDIS doors shut behind her. The sound echoed softly across the plain, warm and familiar in the cold.
The Doctor couldn’t breathe.
Donna squinted at the horizon, then frowned, something catching her attention. She took a step forward, shielding her eyes with one hand.
“Oh,” she said, very quietly, the humor draining from her voice.
She turned back to Rose. “Oi. Blondie.”
Rose looked over, eyebrows lifting. “What?”
Donna pointed.
Rose followed the line of her finger.
Time stopped.
The world narrowed to a single figure standing against the snow.
Tall. Still. Familiar in a way that hurt down to her bones.
For a heartbeat, she didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. The name slipped from her lips like it was made of glass, like it might shatter if she spoke it too loudly.
“Doctor...”
“Donna… am I… am I dreaming?” Rose’s voice trembled, barely holding together.
Donna shook her head, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes as she smiled through them. “No,” she said softly. “You’re not.”
Across the plain, the Doctor stood trembling, a smile breaking across his face that he didn’t try to stop. Tears blurred his vision, freezing instantly on his lashes.
“Rose,” he breathed, the name spilling out like a lifeline.
And then he was running.
Snow sprayed beneath his converses as he tore across the ice, coat flaring behind him, hearts pounding so hard it hurt. He didn’t slow. Didn’t think. Didn’t dare look away in case she vanished, in case this was another cruel trick of time.
They collided with a force that nearly sent them both tumbling.
Rose clung to him, fingers digging into his coat like she was afraid he might fade if she let go. “I missed you,” she sobbed, her voice muffled against his chest. “I missed you so much!”
The Doctor clutched her fiercely, arms locked tight around her, breath hitching as he pressed his face into her hair, grounding himself in her warmth, her scent, her reality.
“You’re here,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re here. You’re really here.”
She nodded against him, unable to speak, clinging harder.
He kissed the top of her head again and again, tears soaking into her hair. “I love you,” he murmured, the words tumbling out uncontrollably, unstoppable. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Her sobs hitched, and she pulled back just enough for him to look into her eyes. They were bright, wet, alive, exactly as he remembered. “I love you too,” she whispered.
He brushed her tears gently with his thumbs, his hands shaking. “All the time… all the time I spent without you, I…” He stopped, swallowed hard, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Then her hair. Then, when her trembling slowed, he leaned forward, their lips meeting in a tentative, reverent kiss, soft and slow, tasting of relief and longing.
And then deeper.
The kiss turned urgent, desperate, a floodgate opened after years of longing. Years of stolen moments and unfinished goodbyes. It was aching and desperate and utterly familiar. Universes had been crossed for this.
When they finally pulled apart, they stayed close, foreheads resting together, eyes closed, breathing each other in.
“I missed you,” the Doctor said softly. “Every day.”
Rose nodded, her smile trembling. “Me too. God, me too.”
Then Rose blinked. “Donna!”
She turned, suddenly remembering, only to find the snow behind them empty.
“…Donna?” she called, bewildered.
The TARDIS doors creaked open a moment later.
Donna emerged bundled in a thick coat with a fur-lined hood pulled up around her head, looking smug and significantly warmer. “What?” she said. “I wasn’t about to stand out here freezing my bits off while you two had your dramatic reunion.”
Rose laughed wetly and pulled away just long enough to drag the Doctor forward. “Doctor, this is Donna. Donna Noble. She’s been traveling with me.”
The Doctor turned to Donna, eyes still shining, and smiled, a real, grateful smile, open and sincere. “Thank you,” he said simply. “For looking after her.”
Donna waved it off. “Yeah, well. Someone had to. She’s brilliant, but she’s got a habit of running toward danger.”
Rose snorted. “Pot, kettle.”
The Doctor laughed, the sound light and whole, and for the first time in a very long while, the Doctor felt whole.