One Day after the events of Christmas Day, when the Doctor rescued a Runaway Bride. Two Days after Doomsday.
The TARDIS was never quiet. She was always emitting some sort of small, ambient noises that filled the back of one's mind, making her presence known, without grating the ears.
Night had fallen. The Doctor's hectic pace had slowed over the course of the day, until his only motion was circling around his ship's hub. His lanky hands were stuffed into his suit pockets, pushing back his overcoat. His sneakered feet paced unobtrusively upon the grated floor, the muffled rattle blending in with the TARDIS' gentle humming. He'd forgotten his black-rimmed glasses upon his face. They added a scholarly aspect to his sober expression, an illusion that was dispelled by his ruffled hair.
The Doctor ceased his revolutions, looking up. Gloom hung over the TARDIS' lofty interior, shrouding in shadow the familiar shapes. A half smile twitched his lips, as he looked around his dim surroundings. His eyes slid shut of their own accord, a soft grin playing around his mouth.
He heard voices, gentle and as well-known to him as his own. (Though that might not be saying much. Usually as soon as he accustomed himself to his voice, it changed.) A man's voice separated itself from the other's—Jack's. Surprisingly, the Captain did not sound flirtatious, or even mildly suggestive. Jack was speaking quietly, intelligently; seeming to be telling a simple tale, perhaps describing one of his many journeys through time and space. The Doctor remembered them well. When Jack was in his sober, mature mood, (and once you had gained his trust, a not so simple undertaking), he would tell the bare truth of his many life-threatening escapades. Somehow, these unembellished stories were even more exciting, or poignant, as some tended to be. The man's unobtrusive, clipped tone rose and fell in easy cadence, reminding the Doctor of the easy friendship he had once enjoyed.
Jack's voice slowly faded, and another took its place in the Doctor's mind. A girl—no, a woman. A woman at whose voice both of his hearts leapt in burning pain. Together they seared and throbbed in acute torture, yet the agony was wonderful to him.
"Doctor."
His smile was tinged with his hidden sorrow, but it was a beautiful look shining in his face. Her voice whispered, sang, shouted, laughed in his trembling ears.
"I want you safe. My Doctor…"
He swayed slowly. He could see her, now, her image coming to him. She was beautiful, and kind, and goodness as he could never be. Yet somehow, she appreciated his company.
"We'll always be alright, you and me."
His smile grew, showing his inner happiness. Her blond hair blew gently in an unseen breeze, her infectious laugh bubbling out of her lovely mouth, shining out of her radiant eyes. She ran up to meet him, arms outstretched. He couldn't stop himself—he met her halfway, grasping her hands in both of his. Neither of them could stop their laughter, as they clasped their hands together in such perfect trust. He turned to her, an impish expression lighting up his face.
"How long are you going to stay with me?" He asked, though he already knew the answer. It rang with absolute certainty throughout his soul, warming his scalded spirit for the first time in a very long time. She met his mischievous smile with one of her own.
"Forever." she squeezed his hand gently, her eyes gazing into his own. The look in her eyes matched his own, and again they laughed for sheer joy of each other's presence.
She dropped his hands suddenly, stepping away. A pang of fear welled in him, but he was frozen. Her head turned away, and when she met his eyes again, hers were full of tears.
"Am I ever going to see you again?" her voice was raw with disbelief.
How desperately he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her! To assure her he would never leave her, never go so far she could not follow.
But his voice spoke for itself, quietly, dead with inevitability.
"You can't."
Her face melted, a mask tore itself away from her heartbreak.
"What are you going to do?"
He swallowed something, and found somewhere the strength to reply.
"Back to the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords."
She bit her lip. "On your own?" she contrived.
He could do nothing but nod. Rose bent her head, overcome with tears. He could not weep, could do nothing but stand, separated from her, as their hearts broke. At last she lifted her face, though she could not stop sobbing.
"I-I love you!" she cried.
He managed a smile. "Quite right, too." he whispered. The ocean crashed in the distance, the wind a chill breath in the intervening silence. Finally, he found his voice.
"And I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it…" (his heart cried out to him, Say it! Say it! She needs to know!) "Rose Tyler-"
Silence met his waiting ears. The Doctor gasped, and stumbled. He had said it, had he not? Or did she not know? He fell to his knees, his breath echoing hollowly in his ears. Rose. What if she never knew? Rose Tyler..He needed her to know, needed it like he had never needed anything before. Rose Tyler...I-
His burning heart welled within him, tears rising in his eyes. He clenched his hands, but couldn't fight back his sorrow. It crashed over him in deafening waves, drowning out all other sounds. Rose Tyler...I...I
"I love you." he whispered. A sob caught in his throat, a wrenching pain clutched his mind. I love you! He screamed suddenly, falling to the ground, curling up in the fetal position.
"Rose, Rose!" he moaned incoherently. He wept, his sobs wrenching his gut, his tears coursing down his face in a searing flood. He cried out, over and over, his lament horrible to hear in its utter despair and anguish. His arms clenched themselves around his knees, as he lay on his side, weeping in tortuous sorrow. Rose. His keening cries were ripped out of his chest, there seemed no end to his blinding tears, as he buried his head in his shaking hands. Rose Tyler. I love you.
Finally, his tears spent, he lay his aching head back, closing his throbbing eyes. Rose. He let the quiet of the night envelope him, sooth his inflamed senses; for the TARDIS was never completely silent. She was always emitting some sort of small, ambient noises that filled the back of one's mind, making her presence known, without grating the ears.
Night had fallen. One more tired sigh escaped the Doctor's lips, and for once, he let the darkness carry him away from the waking world, from the turn of time and space, from the endless expanse of the stars and galaxies, from the ceaseless sorrow that haunted his soul. For a brief moment, he let himself be carried away beyond the grasp of the Curse of the Time Lords. As his consciousness slipped away to a quiet, too-short rest, his lips parted.
Rose Tyler...I love you.
