The Way I Am

If you were falling, then I would catch you.

He'd do anything for his Rose, his precious pink and yellow girl, his beautiful bad wolf. He didn't care if she jumped off the Empire State Building, he was so lovesick he'd go chasing down to sweep her in his arms at the bottom. He'd hold her close and hold her tight, and never ever let her go. If he could, he'd keep her there forever, through the sunny days and the dark nights, whispering things into her ear, his feeble attempts at telling her how much he felt for her. But she knew. He's said those three little words so many times, but in all of their frequency, they never quite add up to the magnitude of his emotion. But she knew.

You need a light, I'd find a match.

Anything she needed, he'd give it to her. She was a goddess, she was a savior, but she was so much more than that. She was his goddess. She was his savior. He would climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest sea, for her. He would throw himself into the dizzying chasm of oblivion, the unfathomable abyss of infinity that once swallowed them up. She already did for him. And he needn't reminding. There were still marks on her arms and her back, feather-like white lines that remind him every day of the horror she must have endured for him. It made him want to keep her safe and hold her hand and never let go (even though he knew that wouldn't be functional, even if they don't run from aliens anymore). He wanted to protect her, and kiss away the scars that slashed at his heart.

'Cause I love the way you say good morning,

He adores the way she wakes up, with a beautiful sleep-addled smile and beautiful hair mussed from her pillow, just as much as he adores her beautiful bright smile that's ready for the day's adventure. He adores her murmur of a greeting in the morning, and the way it makes his heart quiver with affection. But most of all he adores the fact that she wakes up next to him, arms entwined with his, the way they were when they fell into the bed the night before.

And you take me the way I am.

He doesn't deserve her, or so he thinks. He's nine-hundred-and-something years old; he's a murderer; lives have been destroyed and civilizations have blown away because of them. He's bruised down to the core, but somehow, she soothes his aching heart and lets the hope she positively glows with blossom into bubbling beauty within. He was cracked and bleeding when she met him, but her kind heart and her golden self out his pieces back together. She bandaged the wounds with her grins and kissed them alive with her song. He still sometimes thinks that he shouldn't be with her, that he really isn't good enough, but then she flashes him her gorgeous smile, that special one that is so very Rose, it makes him forget it all in a second.

If you are chilly, here take my sweater.

A month after the other him had dropped them off in their new home universe, it snowed. There was a pristine coat of powdered sugar beautifully dusting the ground, and he positively shouted in delight, waking her sleepy form huddled in the blankets. It's just snow, she told him as she rolled over, we've seen snow before. No, he responded, this snow is special, this snow is the beautiful snow of a beautiful winter of a beautiful forever, a forever of cocoa and snuggling in front of the fireplace with my Rose. She blinked her eyes open and smiled shyly. She thought he was so very daft, but frankly, she didn't care. Later that day, they went for ice cream, just to be exciting and spontaneous and adventurous. They sat outside a kitschy little shop and licked at their freezing cones, shivering in delight, and laughing up at the clear blue sky. He took off his jacket, the blue one with pinstripes, and wrapped it around her shoulders. She entwined their fingers and they walked home, back to the apartment in the chilly urban landscape, her head resting contentedly against his shoulder.

Your head is aching, I'll make it better.

She still has nightmares, remembering what it was like before. She still cries sometimes in the middle of the night, afraid that she'll reach out into the darkness and he'll be gone, and the universe has decided to be cruel once more after giving them a happy ending. But then he holds her and kisses her hair and whispers to her and it's all okay. Sometimes he'll wake up shouting with anger about something so far back, but that's still burned into the backs of his eyelids and into his mind. Softly, she cuddles up to him and makes sure that he knows that she'll do her best and beyond that to make sure that he is okay. They're so not okay and they're so broken and so messed up but they have each other and that makes it okay and those long nights don't seem as long anymore.

'Cause I love the way you call me baby,

He doesn't call her sweetie-pie, or honey-boo, or darling angel, or anything else like that. Usually, he just calls her Rose, but the way he says it makes her feel like the most special thing in all of the universes. He has a way of murmuring those four letters, that one syllable, with such reverence and depth it radiates from his chocolate-y eyes into her soul. He says it in such a way that she forgets where she is, in a way that her knees go weak, in a way that all she can think about is him. Not that she thinks about anything else, really. Not that she's ever thought about anything else, really, since he grabbed her hand and told her to run so many months ago. And run they did. They ran from each other, and let it rip them apart and toss her carelessly into the vast space so very far away, but eventually they were able to run back to each other any stay there forever.

And you take me the way I am.

She doesn't deserve him, or so she thinks. She's just a shop girl, just a twenty-something year old that never had much of an education and never did much of anything before he came along. But he loves her. He chose her over everything. He chose her over planets and stars and traveling and he chose her over all that he knew and was used to. She has human insecurities, just like everyone else. She feels ugly, she feels dumb, she feels incapable, she feels like she hasn't accomplished anything. She feels like he may be better off with a certain French aristocrat. But when he tells her that she is beautiful, she knows it's true. When he tells her she's intelligent and funny and brave and compassionate and the most wonderful person he's ever met, she knows that's true as well. Because she reciprocates all of that emotion. She feels it all back toward him.

I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair.

They will grow old one day, but don't even worry about the future because it's one filled with eachother. With mirth and laughter they'll let wrinkles come, and not care that their knees will ache when they run, because when they dance, they'll still have that youthful spirit from before. They'll be that old couple on the park bench in the dappled summer sunlight, giggling like schoolchildren and kissing like teenagers and talking like best friends and being in love like no one else. The flame won't sizzle and fizzle out, it'll be kindled stronger with each passing day as they fall for each other a little more.

Sew on patches to all you tear.

They've made mistakes, and they've had heartbreaks, but they'll have each other to hold close and they'll have each other to drunkenly belt out eighties songs on karaoke and they'll have each other to hug when they're crying about their kids graduating. They'll have each other for the rest of their lives. It's such a short time really, just a blink of an eye in the massive expanse of reality, but they don't care. A forever without the one you love is not a forever at all.

'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise,

They love each other. More than the suns and moons and stars and galaxies, more than hot summer nights at the beach, more than expensive Belgian chocolates. It's not a fair comparison really. They are absolutely, unashamedly, unreservedly, in love, and not afraid to scream it out into the world. They love everything about each other, the brilliant traits and the perfect flaws, the characteristics that are so human and so vulnerable and so beautiful. You can see it in the way their gazes meet, the way they hold hands, the way they only have eyes for one another. The way they laugh as if they don't a care in the world. And they don't. Because they promised each other forever. But that's just the beginning. And that is all that matters - Rose and the Doctor, together, as it should be.

And you take me the way I am,

You take me the way I am,

You take me the way I am.