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On the planet Gallifrey, the people changed their looks so often that it could be difficult to figure out who was who. But there was one aspect of each of them that remained the same no matter how many times they regenerated. Every single Gallifreyan was born with words written across the inside of their dominant arm’s elbow. Different words for each person, in many different tones, but unchanging all the same. And it was a generally accepted rule that those words belonged to one’s ‘soulmate’.
Of course, the Time Lords and Ladies thought themselves above such silly ideas, understanding that marriage was best left to be decided by what would be politically or genetically most advantageous. But the general citizens found the idea of soulmates to be romantic, knowing that someday they would meet someone who would speak the words on their arm, and that they would speak the words on their soulmate’s arm in return.
Since he was old enough to understand the concept of soulmates, the Doctor found himself disbelieving in them. How could something like his genetic code, which was surely what determined the pattern on his arm, be a judge of what would make a good romantic match for him? And his family only encouraged those beliefs, having set up an arranged marriage for him when he was barely even able to walk yet.
The Doctor had known even then that he was different. While everyone else he’d met had had their words written in Gallifreyan, or High Gallifreyan for certain Time Lords and Ladies, his was in a language that he didn’t know. It was more like a strangely patterned birthmark than anything, and he had no problem with keeping it hidden from the world.
It wasn’t until the Doctor had stepped into a TARDIS for the first time that he was able to understand the words written on his skin, translated for him by the ship. “You alright, mate?” and that was it. Something so vague that really, it could belong to anyone, though he supposed that they would have to say it in whatever language it was written in.
It was much longer still before he learned that his words were written in Earth English. He also learned that humans were the predominant English speakers of the universe, and they had so many colonies across so many galaxies that it seemed impossible to ever find the right person. So he kept his sleeves rolled down, and did his duties as a husband and father before rushing off to the stars, determined to ignore the words. What difference did it make, anyways? If a human was somehow his soulmate- despite the fact that Gallifreyans were the only race to have such things- then he would outlive them in a few short decades anyways, so there seemed to be no point in trying to meet them.
Instead, the Doctor traveled among the stars because it was incredible to do so. It was an experience made even better by the rush of knowing he had stolen his TARDIS, and traveling with so many wonderful people. He couldn’t imagine a better life.
And of course, once the war began, there was no time for soulmates or family, or anything other than a steely resolve to save the universe by massacring two entire races. And then he was anger and blood and destruction and everything he’d always despised, until the day he met a simple shop girl in London, and he felt his entire life change.
Her first words to him were unimportant, something about him pulling the arm off of the Auton, but there was still something about her, drawing him in. Her grin seemed to outshine any of the suns the Doctor had seen, and he broke his own rules by asking her to come with him twice. She may have never even gotten her A levels, but she was brilliant, and compassionate, and beautiful, and so very human. And it was so humbling to see her absolute faith in him from the beginning of their adventures together. The Doctor loved he- loved having her around.
She wasn’t even scared away when his face changed, and the Doctor found himself actively hoping that he would never encounter his soulmate, because he couldn’t imagine ever caring about anyone else the way that he cared about Rose. And what was even more perfect was that she cared about him just as much too.
But he was an idiot, still so afraid of losing her, so when he lost her to a parallel world, he’d never even told her just how much she meant to him. Even their final goodbye didn’t have enough time for the right words, and he could only hope that she somehow knew, just like she always seemed to know what he was thinking.
Even with the other friends he made along the way, time just seemed to pass by so slowly without Rose in his life. Sometimes, when he actually let himself stop and think about her, the depth of his own feelings scared him. How could he still care so much about someone he’d spent a mere two years with? And yet, it was Rose. What other choice did he have than to love her with both his hearts?
Seeing her again was like a dream come true, but in the end, the Doctor knew that Rose deserved better than him. She deserved a long life, living and growing old with the man she loved. And he knew that he couldn’t trust his human self, not considering how he’d been just after the Time War. Everything about Rose was perfect to heal him, and the Doctor needed to let her go.
The days and years passed by in a haze of nothingness, and the Doctor wasn’t sure what the point of his travels even were anymore. Everything looked just like stuff to him when there was no excited little humans there to get excited about each new place to explore.
The Doctor made mistakes, and did terrible things, and learned that he had almost failed at one of the few things he had managed to do right, no matter how much he hated himself for doing it. And then he was dying, and he wanted to say his goodbyes.
He knew that he couldn’t talk to Rose, but just to see her again would be enough for him to move on to his next face, to his next self. He listened to her beautiful, achingly familiar voice speaking to her mother, talking of such inconsequential things, and yet it was the most perfect thing the Doctor had ever heard before.
He meant to just let her walk by, just being able to see her, but he let slip a groan of pain. Or maybe it had been intentional. He wasn’t even sure at that point. She turned around, and he was startled by the sight of her eyes. He had somehow managed to forget the depth of beauty in them, and he had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be the object of her concern. “You alright, mate?”
The Doctor couldn’t stop himself from gasping out loud, though he managed to get through the short conversation without acting too strange. Rose couldn’t see him in the shadows, she didn’t know she was talking to him, so it didn’t matter that she must have seen his words back when he’d first regenerated in front of her and she’d changed him into pajamas.
When the sound of his voice didn’t seem to trigger any recognition in her, the Doctor had to ask what year it was. She said it was 2005, and suddenly the Doctor felt like he couldn’t even breath. He watched her leave after she gave him one last gorgeous smile, and then he staggered back into the TARDIS, feeling numb all over.
Humans didn’t even have soulmates, no one other than Gallifreyans did, and yet… Rose’s first words to him, at least according to her own linear timeline, were the same words that had been written across his skin in English from before he was even born. Rose Tyler was somehow his soulmate, but he was never even going to see her again because he’d left her behind without even saying goodbye, and his human double would never know that the words on his arm belonged to Rose. Then the numbness quickly shifted into sharp, aching pain, though the Doctor couldn’t tell whether the pain was physical or not.
After the Doctor regenerated, he was too busy running around saving the world for the millionth time to notice that he felt ill in more than just the way of regeneration sickness. He definitely didn’t notice a very crucial detail about his new body. It wasn’t until he’d picked out a more suitable outfit and gone to change into it that he realized what was wrong. For the first time in a thousand years, the Doctor’s arm was completely blank.
He sank down to his knees as he stared at his arm in shock. The only thing he’d had left of Rose were her words, since the TARDIS’ destruction meant that even Rose’s room, and all of her belongings, were gone forever. He had nothing left of her. Not even the one thing he had foolishly assumed would be permanent. He should have known better than to think that the universe would let him have even that much.
The Doctor made new friends- and then lost them. He got married- though not technically in this timeline- all while knowing exactly when he would lose her too. The Doctor found so little joy in his explorations, and wondered how he’d ever been so fond of his adventures. Now all he did was run, but there was no longer a hand that fit perfectly into his while he did.
Then the Doctor was in the past, in his own past, only able to remember as the events occurred. He never could have expected to see a younger version of himself that should have been busy with the Time War. And after helping to save the day- yet again- he found himself going further into his own past, ready to face himself. When he heard two particular words escape his younger self’s mouth, “Bad Wolf,” he thought he would just about faint from the shock of it, and pinstripes didn’t seem to be any better off.
And then it was all over for real, and the Doctor returned to the museum to look upon the Time Lord paintings there. “No more,” he said softly to himself as he stared at the depiction of agony and destruction.
He heard someone walk over to him, and then he could feel the slight heat emanating from a human body as they stood right next to him, though he refused to look away from the painting, since he was unsure of when he’d be able to work himself up to seeing it again. He just hoped that it wasn’t another crazy UNIT person who wanted his autograph.
“You know, maybe things would have been different if I’d just told you from the beginning,” came a quiet voice, though it was so familiar that it immediately made the Doctor’s hearts beat faster, and his eyes sting with unshed tears. He refused to look, knowing that he would hate himself if it was just some kind of auditory hallucination caused by the stresses of the day. Then there was a hand being held up in front of his face, and the Doctor looked before he could stop himself.
It took him a moment to realize that there was anything odd about the hand being shown to him, but then he spotted it. There, written across the wrist in neat block letters, was a single word. “RUN!” The Doctor grabbed the wrist to investigate closer, and then gulped once before turning to look at the owner of it.
If this was just some kind of stress dream, then the Doctor never wanted it to end. “Rose,” he managed to croak out, though his throat felt too dried up to say anything else.
She gave him a small smile, and even though it wasn’t as bright as some of her others that he’d seen, it was still the most beautiful sight that he’d seen in far longer than he cared to think about. “Are you going to let go of my hand now?”
The Doctor immediately shook his head. “No.” He didn’t tighten his grip though, so that she could pull away if she wanted to. He reached out with his free hand, hating himself for the way it shook, as he cupped the side of Rose’s face. She felt so warm and alive and perfect. “How are you here? Am I dreaming?”
She pressed her cheek into his hand, and reached up to touch his face as well. “You’re not dreaming. I’m really here.” Then she pulled herself away, suddenly looking hesitant. “I know that it’s been a long time for you. I understand if you don’t want me to-”
“I’ll never stop wanting you,” the Doctor declared, damning all of the consequences. “I’ve missed you so much.”
And then she did give him that brilliant grin, and he was sure that he was about to just float away right then, because he felt so light inside. He rubbed his thumb over the word on her wrist, and then gave her a long, searching look. “I wasn’t born with it.” She gently tugged him over to a nearby bench so that they could both sit down, and neither of them could tear their eyes off of each other. “I was a stupid kid who used a fake ID to get a tattoo. It was supposed to be of my boyfriend’s name at the time, Jimmy. I watched the whole time, and I could’ve sworn that they were writing Jimmy’s name, but once they were done, this was there instead. The artist kept apologizing, and didn’t charge me, and I was angry at first. But once I broke things off with Jimmy, I realized how much better off I was without his name. I took to covering it with makeup. And then one day, the day my whole life changed, a handsome stranger grabbed this very same hand and told me to run. And I never stopped.”
The Doctor raised Rose’s arm up to gently kiss the tattoo, and then lowered her hand, still holding onto it. “Is the world ending again?”
Rose laughed, and shook her head. “No, everyone’s safe. I came back because I was tired of being alone. My Doctor was dying, the one who you left with me. I’d seen his words many times before, but he finally explained the significance of them to me, and then I remembered seeing him before, before I met leather and big ears, though he said that it must’ve been you, not him.”
The Doctor frowned. It couldn’t have been more than a year or two since he’d left her, if that, based on the way she still looked exactly how he remembered. And he knew that it wasn’t just from nostalgia. “I’m sorry you had such a short time with him, after I’d promised…”
Rose shook her head. “We had almost fifty years together.” She squeezed the Doctor’s hand tightly when she saw the stunned look on his face. “I think that it was Bad Wolf, all of it. My tattoo, and your words, and making it possible for us to have forever.”
Then the Doctor finally gave in to the urge that had been itching at him since the moment he’d heard Rose’s voice. He pulled her forward into a tight hug, breathing in her scent, and enjoying the feeling of having her in his arms. “I’m so sorry that I left you,” he whispered.
“I’ve had plenty of time to forgive you. My husband died almost a hundred years ago, Doctor. I stuck around for a while to keep watch over my family, over Tony’s line, but then I woke up one day, and I saw a familiar TARDIS waiting to take me back to you.” The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows, and Rose hurried on. “I know that you shouldn’t know too much of your own future, so all I’ll tell you is that it isn’t the right time for you yet.”
The Doctor looked Rose in the eyes, hoping that she could see just how much he cared. Then he realized that he was being an idiot again, and he needed to just tell her. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”
Her eyes immediately grew wet. “I love you, Doctor. And I know that we must both be so different than we remember each other. But still, if you’ll have me, I’d like to get to know you again.”
“That sounds like a fantastic idea!” Then the Doctor gave Rose a brief kiss on the lips, knowing that it wasn’t quite the right time yet for more than that, no matter how much he ached for more.
They held hands as they walked back to the TARDIS, and the Doctor couldn’t deny how right it felt as they stepped onto the ship together. The TARDIS greeted Rose like an old friend, and then eagerly pushed both of them to the kitchen, where Rose’s favorite tea was waiting on the counter, made just how she liked it.
It wasn’t until later, after hours of talking and telling each other about the lives they had led, that the Doctor thought to ask, “Why did my words disappear?”
Rose frowned, and looked at his arms, and then shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe Bad Wolf thought that it would be too painful for you to keep them?” The Doctor wasn’t sure how logical that was, but decided that it didn’t matter. He didn’t need words anyways, not when he had Rose herself standing by his side.
They traveled together for more years than he bothered to count before it was time for him to move on to his next face. And then the words were back, written in the crook of his elbow as though they’d always been there. They both theorized about the cause, but in the end, it didn’t matter.
The Doctor had always been different than the other Time Lords, and apparently was in regards to soulmates as well. But why should he care about any of that? Whatever Bad Wolf’s intentions were, he could only thank her for everything she’d done for him. And when the time was right, he went back to Pete’s world to bring Rose back to his younger self before returning to his current Rose, a proud grin on his face. It was the Doctor and Rose Tyler on the TARDIS, just as it should be.