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Gold and Silver

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She spins and spins, twirling in her strapless golden dress, taking in the sights and liking what she sees.

Gold and silver are dancing around her in the form of men in masks and crystals that seem to go on for miles. 

A white-gloved hand grabs her wrist and pulls her into the sea of people, making her lose contact with what is left and what is right. The stranger doesn’t say anything, but his freckles remind her of someone she lost. As she’s being waltzed around she catches sight of unruly brown curls and can’t help but feel a punch to her gut even now.

Because she’s always looking, always looking for him. Every uttered “Welllll,” every single long, billowing brown coat walking down an empty street corner and every pair of deep brown eyes makes her glance twice and she’s always met with a face that isn’t his.

She knows she should give up, should live a fantastic life like he wanted for her, but she can’t help but think, maybe, one of these days he’ll…

“Mind if I cut in?” It’s an unfamiliar voice by tone and volume, but something about it brings back memories she’d almost started to think she’d forgotten.

The man slides in beside her, grasping her at the waist and shoulder blade and leading the way one step at a time.

She smirks, but fringes annoyance. “Didn’t even stop to see if I was going to say yes, did you?”

His eyes – yes, green, not brown – light up against the silver that is his mask and he chuckles, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Should I have? I was almost certain you were going to say yes anyways.”

The ballroom blurs around them as he dips her backward ever gently, breathing out deeply when she’s standing straight again. “And why is that, stranger?”

“One,” He says behind what appear to be clinched teeth. “I’m not a stranger.” A slight pause and she absently notes that they’ve traveled around a good deal of the corridor. “Think of me as un très grand secret – a very big secret.” Hmm. French. “Two, because you are you and I am… Well, I’m me.”

She stops moving suddenly, everything around her that isn’t the masked stranger in front of her seemingly not existing. The smile present on his face is one she knows well: Manic and wild, worrying, but adventurous and rightfully joyful.

Cool hands cup her face, thumb sliding against her bottom lip and she smiles, because maybe she has just found him.

“Can I…?” Half asking and half not caring if he says yes or no as she reaches to tear his mask off, but a tight shake of his head sends her hands retreating.

“One more dance?” He says it like a statement before bringing her against his chest and leaving little to no room for any other suggestion and yes, that is fine, dancing with him is fine because it’s him and her and the golden spotlight up above; nobody else matters, nobody else cares.

They do another circle around the lot before she stops and pulls him near a shadowed area, wanting to get as far as possible from everyone else without actually leaving the room.

Her hands hover over his mask for a few moments because as much as she wants to get a good look at him, she also doesn’t.

But curiosity gets the better of her and she quickly removes it.

A man who looks to be twenty-eight, but can’t possibly be with the way his ancient eyes hold the turn of all centuries stands before her.

She chokes back a sob at the sight of him. “Is it… Is it really you?”

His smile is worth every single tear she’s cried. “Rose Tyler, of course, it’s me!”

She leans against him, wrapping her arms around his waist and her face stops directly in front of his. “Say my name again.” The words are ghosted directly over his lips and his shiver is rather noticeable. 

“Rose. Rose. Rose. Ros–” Her lips crashing into his stop his constant chanting of her name.

Oh yes, she found him.