The Sun and the Moon
by facemygeneration
Summary: I had a lot of Doomsday feels, so I wrote this. It should make you feel better about that episode in general, despite it being a bit sad (but it's Doomsday, there's no way it can't be a little sad).
There they were.
The man with the eyes that belonged to the kings of old, and a girl who would never stop believing.
There they were at Bad Wolf Bay.
Salt water streamed down a pretty face—a face colored all pink and yellow, and glistening with sadness combined with the slightest glimmer of hope. The girl squinted her eyes against the wind, pushing more tears down her already soaked face. Howling, tendrils of cool air pressed at her face and tugged on her hair, desperately begging for her attention.
But she paid the brisk gales no mind. Her attention was elsewhere, just as it had been since the day the man had shown her something better.
She was pleading with him now. She knew there was nothing that could be done—if there was, he would have done it. Because he was the Doctor, and she was his Rose.
She knew all this, but still…there was something about her, something that had once caught the near-dead eye of a broken, hollow man. No matter what, she always kept hope.
"I…" she started, her voice cracking, barely getting the word out before a dry, painful sob raked through her body. Everything in her was wound up too tight. She wanted to let go, to spin out of control, let go of the tension that plagued her. The tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision, reminding her that she could easily give in. But no, she reminded herself, there would be time for that later—not now. She pushed it all away and looked up into his chocolate-brown eyes.
"I love you," she stated, easily as breathing. It was the most natural thing in the world.
The Doctor nodded because he knew. He nodded because he had heard it a million times before. He nodded so he could pretend this wasn't anything special.
"Quite right, too," he muttered back. For once in his long, long life, he was barely able to speak.
"And I suppose…" He swallowed thickly, and denied himself the luxury of tears, of anything resembling humanity. He could not have it; not now, or ever. "…if it's the last chance to say it…"
He looked her straight in the eye. Old, tired, and resigned. The stare did not make Rose Tyler cry out sadness. She understood the gaze of a man who was ready to die. Her tears fell silently. They coagulated on her chin, the surface tension causing them to waver for the slightest moment, before becoming too heavy to stay.
They fell to the sandy ground like Rose Tyler had fallen in love. They hit the ground with the quick thud of her heart when she saw the Doctor. Her tears mixed with the earth and the ocean, the two liquids meeting each other like old friends.
And who knew? Perhaps they were. Maybe the ocean was just the tears of the moon, forever separated from the burning, passionate, glorious love of the sun. Maybe the wolves howled because they were the only ones who knew, and they were so, so sorry. She wanted to howl with them.
"Rose Tyler…"
His voice faded with his image, but the girl did not despair. She hadn't required the words to feel the love. He had said the menough times for Rose. He had said the in the morning when he woke up early and brought her tea and breakfast in bed. He had said them with his hands as he guided her own gently over the controls of the TARDIS. He had said it in his beams and his smiles and his grins. Most of all, he had said them in the way he took her hand and taught her to run.
The Doctor loved her, and she knew it for certain. That was why the girl—the girl all pink and yellow—still glistened with the slightest glimmer of hope.
The Doctor was her sun, and she was his moon. Fate could try to keep them apart, but no power—divine or otherwise—can stop the eclipse.