'Her name was Rose.'

His words of only moments before still seemed to hang in the air between him and Donna, almost more real and tangible than the cool wood of the TARDIS door that he currently rested his forehead against. Eyes closed, the Doctor breathed out in a gusty sigh. He didn't want to turn around; didn't want to face the empty TARDIS, a shell of what it had been when Rose was there.

Angrily, he turned and walked to the console, jabbing a button here, yanking a lever much too forcefully there. With a jolt, the familiar wheezing of the TARDIS' engines began, filling the room that was still devoid of the sounds he wanted to hear. A familiar laugh, a hand on his shoulder, a voice calling his name…

The Doctor sighed again and fell into the captain's chair behind him, watching the steady rise and fall of the central column.

Suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. Rose was gone, and he hadn't even been able to muster the courage to tell her how he felt about her. Frustrated, he slammed a clenched fist down on the seat. It hit something else.

The Doctor looked down to see his fist resting on Rose's purple blouse.

Something inside of him snapped, and he felt hot tears slipping silently down his cheeks. Gripping a handful of the shirt as if it were his lifeline, the Doctor let them fall.

Alone in the TARDIS, he silently let himself think the words he had never said.

Rose Tyler, he thought, wherever you are, wherever you're going…I love you. I always have.

More tears fell.

Rose had stolen his hearts, and the universe had stolen her.

No…he thought.

The universe may have stolen her, but Rose…

Rose had been his hearts.