"I love you," he said. More of a whisper, or maybe even a croak. He was well past the point of composure, his head buried against her neck, but he didn't care. These words had been trapped inside him for a year, and they were going to come out, no matter what they sounded like.
"Quite right too," she said next to his ear. She didn't sound very composed herself, but he cared about that even less.
The Doctor clutched at Rose, scarcely believing she was really in his arms. That it was her racing heart next to his own. It was her voice, her breath, the smell of her hair, her arms around him. Oh, her arms around him. He felt... He couldn't put it into words. There was something. What was it? He was...
"Here's a problem," he said, clearing his throat once or twice.
"Hmm?" came her muffled reply.
"Don't think I want to let go."
"Then don't," she said as she clutched the back of his coat.
He was...
"You been all right?" she asked.
"Oh, you know. You?"
"Yeah. You know."
He was...
The Doctor moved a hand to the back of her head. "I suppose we could just stay like this forever. Ooh, the looks we'd get."
"There's always circus life, yeah?"
"You're not gonna grow a beard, are you? 'Cause I'm thinking this would be weird enough." Her body slightly shook with a small laugh and he grinned and closed his eyes.
He was...
"I suppose we really do need to move," Rose said after a bit.
"Oh, and here I'd committed to that whole circus idea."
He felt her body pulling away from his and resisted the urge to pull it back. Her eyes were wet and red, her hair a mess, but he swore she never looked more beautiful. His hand went up to her face and she smiled in that way he knew so very well. And as he leaned in to kiss her, he finally knew what that something was.
He was home.
Thanks to Beck.
