Rose. Rose. Rose. Not trapped in the 51st century like he'd thought, but living a life. A life in Torchwood---that place that Suzie worked for, that he'd only heard about. But living. A life.
Three years for him. Eight years for her. Eight years. A drop of water in his lifetime, but a whole eighth or so of hers. So much time wasted. Gone, not wasted. Never wasted.
A hand to Reinette's arm, and the Doctor landed the TARDIS into Rose's office. It transformed into a cabinet, it looked like. Silver again. Odd. Must've been a glitch.
He pushed open the door and stepped out, turning to glance over where Rose was. The Rose he left.