Goodbye Rose: Ten x Rose

Summary: After Doomsday, the Doctor desperately scours the universe for a dying sun to say goodbye to Rose.

"The seconds ticked away, fleeing like hot, desert sand through his fingers."

Word Count: 646


The interior of the TARDIS was the color of a dying sun. The light reflected off the twirling levers and buzzers on the TARDIS console, bathing the area in a rather romantic atmosphere. A low hum permeated the air as the TARDIS breathed in and out. Sleeping. Resting.

The Doctor crashed through the doors of the TARDIS, disrupting the the deep gold with a sweeping trench coat. He dashed to the controls, spinning them and slamming them. Sweat dripped from his forehead and tears glistened in his eyes. He pounded the controls.

"Please, not yet Rose," he whispered, hands clenching for his sonic screwdriver.

His eyes lit up with an idea of a desperate man.

"Hold on Rose," he said to his sonic, "I'm coming for you."

He raced to the monitor, and grabbed hold of it, typing as fast as he could. His fingers flew, eliminating possibilities; there was no time to make a jump now, so he needed to find an energy source right now.

Loading, the monitor said, 'please wait'.

"No!" the Doctor said hoarsely, "Please, not now, not when I need you most!"

The seconds ticked away, fleeing like hot, desert sand through his fingers. The Doctor turned to his other screen: a timer was displayed.

Ten minutes and forty-three seconds left.

The Doctor let a wordless cry of fury out. He was utterly helpless- even he with his impossible powers of regeneration and dashing, despairing mind could not escape the ephemeral nature of time.

After two minutes of hopeless searching, the monitor displayed: Xana Prime, a ripe old star ready for the plucking. The residents of the few life-worthy planets had fled at their star's imminent implosion.

"There," the Doctor breathed. He ran around the console, setting coordinates and pulling the throttle.

The TARDIS screeched its way to Xana Prime. Its lighting flickered and bloomed into a burnished bronze.

The Doctor simultaneously set up the connection to the sun and holograph for Rose while trying not to collapse from the TARDIS' heaving and buckling.

His energy was that of the red giant star he was sacrificing to gaze upon Rose once more. He was putting forward one last burst of nuclear fusion, fusing together heavier and heavier elements in order to sustain his finale.

The TARDIS began channeling the stubborn, fiery star and the Doctor aimed his sonic screwdriver at the projection machine. He took a deep breath and buzzed it. This was a long shot, but it had to work. The Doctor took a quick glance at the timer: six minutes left.

The holograph wasn't showing. It wasn't working.

"Dammit!" he yelled, "I will not be defeated by a bloody machine!"

He searched the code for a mistake. There was a semicolon out of place.

Gritting his teeth, the Doctor fixed the error and buzzed his sonic at the machine again.

"Rose," he whispered, "Rose Tyler."

The holograph flickered on agonizingly slowly.

Faint yellow hair and blue eyes appeared. The Doctor drunk in her image as she began to speak.


"I love you."

The words broke in Rose's mouth, but they squeezed tight around the Doctor's heart. She said it now because it was her last chance, but it would only open doors that wouldn't close.

"Quite right too," the Doctor quirked his lips up in a sad half-smile.

"And I suppose," he paused, "it's my last chance to say it."

Could he? Rose stood baring her emotions to him. He had to at least reciprocate.

"Rose Tyler-"

And the Doctor faded away.


"I love you," the Doctor finished in the privacy of the TARDIS. The TARDIS hummed along in low agreement.

His legs collapsed under him and he sat on the floor of the TARDIS like a child.

"Rose . . ."

A tear slipped past his eye.

The supernova collapsed into a black hole, but the TARDIS was already moving out.


- the Little Doctor