how long are you going to stay with me?

 She lost track of how much time passed, and not just because she was in a time machine. Some days, it felt like years, like she'd been passed it all and moved on but still carried the grief like a widow. Some days, it felt fresh and sharp, like it was only yesterday, last week, some time recent. She couldn't tell. She didn't ask, she didn't want to know. 

She told the Doctor, mostly. Told her story just as he told his, and he seemed to understand. Seemed to know, with a wisdom she always underestimated in him. A thousand years of life, a hundred companions and friends, people who loved him and loved others. He seemed to respect her even more for it, if that was possible, didn't judge her, silently encouraged her. Took it in the same stride he took everything else about her, as though she could do no wrong. 

She appreciated him more than she'd ever tell him.

They traveled. He took her gentle places at first, and when he realized it was the running that freed her, if only temporarily, he took her to planets that needed saving. What frightened her, though, was the fact that she wasn't doing it to save them. Not now. 

They didn't stop to examine their relationship, just as they never had. She didn't ask, he didn't offer. They picked back up as though she'd never even been gone, with grins and tea and understanding, and they just... worked. Together, as mates, and nothing more. He would probably be accepting, if she made any move to advance things, but she never did, and he didn't mind. Asexual, and an alien. 

Now, though, was one of those down-times in between planetary distraction. He was working beneath the console, and she was sitting, quietly. Watching. Not thinking, just... sitting, listening to the TARDIS sing in her mind, and just... breathing. 

In her quest to expose Castiel to every possible happy human experience, she's spent ages figuring out the best place to attend New Year's Eve. After a week of waffling between her mum and dad's shwanky political bash and the rowdy pub down the block from her flat, she finally decided on the pub. Coming from an estate, she spent much of her time in tiny little everyone-knows-everyone pubs, had a lot of brilliant times with Mickey and the boys, catching matches. It was a lot more... familiar than the ritzy things her parents put on, and she decided she'd really like to experience it with him. Not to mention he hadn't yet met Mickey or Jake, and considering she worked with them, she thought it might be nice.

Things were going well. Really, really well. It was half passed eleven, and though she wasn't tipsy, she'd had a few, and so had everyone else. Half-priced drinks on holidays. They were brilliant. The music was good, everyone was happy, and the place was covered in streamers. 

She pushed her silly giant, numbered 'sunglasses' back on her head to keep her hair out of her face, beaming at the sight of Mickey trying to do the robot across the way on the dance floor. Just... really, really brilliant all around, with a drink in one hand and Castiel's in the other. 

Rose finds a rather strange guy on a beach.

Yeah, turns out he's an angel.

Mind = Blown.

With rebelledforyou

It took three weeks to get to that beach, ten minutes to get a broken heart, five and a half hours to leave, three more weeks to get back home, and another month before she bothered to leave her bedroom. Two weeks after that she had an identity established, and started training at Torchwood. Sixteen days and she was a certified field agent. A year, and she was leading her own team, with five people working under her.

Nearly a year and a half, but she was going relatively strong. Running on her own two legs, going around the pub for football matches, visiting her mum and dad, her new baby brother. At some point, she'd started having a life. A real, proper, linear day-to-day life that wasn't as miserable as she'd probably have assumed. It wasn't the same, granted. It still felt like she was missing half of herself, like she was stuck, trapped, pressed against the other side of the wall, but she was Rose Tyler. He asked her to have a fantastic life, and she would.

And she did. Sort of. Even if roughly 89% of it was centered around work. She ate work, slept work, showered work, worked work. She had her hand in the building of a dimension canon, a multiuniversal telepathy field, and a rift projector. No telling how likely any of the three devices were to actually work at any point in the future, but it kept her busy. When she wasn't overseeing the pet projects, she was running for her life in the field.

Which was exactly what she was doing today. There was a signal being projected from the heart of London, and she was in the process of tracing it. Apparently, it was leading her to some rubbish sub-basement, because it was dark, and cold, and full of useless boxed items that would probably never see the light of day. She just carried on, observing the feedback from her handheld monitoring devices.

Logged separately from the meme because I'm counting it as canon toward the verse with but_worth_it

A not-so-run-of-the-mill adventure, with some talking, kissing, explosions, and running. 

The TMI Meme.

THE CLEAN(ISH) SECTION

Full name: Rose Marion Tyler
( The Dirtyish Section )

The TARDIS stops moving, and the Doctors, both of them, are looking into the cause. At least, until the Time Lord starts acting strange. And then Rose.

Mind-altering radiation.

Rose and Ten face off, screaming and absolutely mental, and things almost get pushed too far. The Metacrisis interferes, which does nothing but make them turn on him. Thankfully, he was clever enough to start venting out the console room, but the damage that's been done might already be too late.

the Mindfuck meme.