"They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now."
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
Once upon a time, a long time ago and a million years in the future, not far from here and a universe away, there was a girl named Rose Marion Tyler, a lost soul immersed in thoughts of one particular hour of one particular day. She must have been only about six or seven at the time, but she could recall the instance perfectly. She remembered every detail of that foggy London afternoon in the park, every flickering shadow that moved in and out of view with the sun and clouds above, every worry-ridden cry of every mother chasing after every giggling child that dashed by on stubbly legs with tiny shoes that made tiny sounds on the well worn asphalt. The soft scent of freshly mown grass wafted past on a misty breeze, cutting through the heat of the early evening. The sun hung lazily in sky, occasionally masked by thick white clouds that greatly resembled thick smears of white paint streaking a soft blue canvas. While other children giggled and playing and screamed in delight, little Rose simply walked along, absently stroking the faded pattern on her little pink dress as she gazed at the towering trees that loomed overhead. She had discovered herself to be completely and utterly lost, but that was alright. Eventually her mother would find her, and until then she could enjoy the simple solitude of a day alone in the park.
"Hello there," said a man before her. She stopped, blinking in surprise; she had not even seen the mysterious stranger standing there until she almost ran into him. "Are you lost?"
"No," she replied quickly. Rose knew she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, but looking up at the kindly man, she couldn't find it in her to ignore him as she probably should have. "Well, maybe I'm a bit lost, but someone will find me eventually."
The man chuckled at that, a far away look in his eyes. "Always wandering off," he murmured softly, staring off into space for a few moments before snapping back to attention, smiling at her once more.
"Can you help me find my Mum?" Rose asked innocently. She had not even considered suspecting this kind man, trusting him completely after only knowing him for mere minutes, as only a seven year old could.
The man crouched down to her level, patting her thick hair, which was still brown at this point. A soft, sad smile curled his lips as he nodded slightly, straightening up and taking the young girl by the hand as they walked through the steadily darkening park, immersed in silence. Rose never did like silence much, being raised in a small apartment where even when nothing particularly noisy was happening inside the cramped dwelling, constant noise could be heard through the thin walls of the place; still, this kind of silence was nice, comforting even; the kind of quiet that you could get lost in. Rose looked up at the strange man, tracing his features with her chocolate brown eyes, intent on memorizing every detail of the strange man, he who could make her feel so safe with only a spared glance and a sad smile.
After what appeared to be many moment of internal debate during which his eyes would constantly dart back and forth as if following an argument within his own mind, the man dug a hand deep into one pants pocket, (Rose's eyes widened when his arm disappeared up to his elbow into the pocket) eventually pulling out a small stuffed lion. It wasn't exactly in top condition; one ear had a large tear in it and the black button eyes and nose were faded and scratched, but the moment the strange man offered it Rose snatched it from his hands, hugging it tightly to her chest.
"Ah, might want to be a bit careful there. He's quite a bit older than you are. Not nearly as old as me, of course, but nevertheless-"
"Rose!" a sharp voice from nearby cut him off mid-rant, and two heads turned to see a blonde woman running towards them. When she caught sight of the mysterious stranger she rushed towards Rose, stealing away her hand from the man.
"So I take it this is your mother?" he said, addressing Rose but not taking his eyes off her mother, his expression laden with poorly concealed terror.
"Who are you?" the woman said, scowling and narrowing her eyes at him. He flinched when she raised her hand to brush aside a lock of platinum blonde hair, stumbling over his next few words like a nervous teenager.
"I was just taking her to find you," he squeaked when he regained his voice. The girl's mother scoffed doubtfully, but otherwise remained silent. The man shuffled his feet for a moment, nervously fiddling with his collar.
"Rose," he said after a moment, completely disregarding her mother, who looked ready to slap him at any moment. "I am going to ask something of you, something important. Something that could change the future of the whole universe."
The small girl stared with him with wide, innocent eyes before nodding furiously, her cinnamon brown hair bouncing lightly on her pink-clad shoulders. The man crouched down to her level, placing his hands on her small shoulders with a grave look in his eyes, as if it pained him greatly to say his next words to her.
"I want you to forget me, Rose Tyler," he said, his mouth a thin, sad line. "I want you to forget about that strange man who you met in the park on a foggy London afternoon. Forget me and go on with your life."
Rose stared up at him before slowly, hesitantly, she nodded again. The man smiled a broken smile, straightening and turning on his heel.
"Oh, and Rose," he called as her mother started to drag her away in the other direction. She turned forcefully, shaking off her mother's protective grip on her hand. The man grinned at her, his eyes studying her with a proud look. "Have a good life. Have a fantastic life, Rose. Do that for me."
She would later tell herself that her seven year old self knew deep down that she could never forget the mysterious stranger with the old eyes and the kind, sad smile, but in truth the child was terrified. Terrified that she might one day lose the memory of her new friend, the lonely old man with a young man's face, and that she might grow into a big girl with a job and a flat and no thoughts of her odd new friend. Of course, little Rose Tyler did grow up, and every night for several years she would drift into sleep with thoughts of her strange friend with the old man's clothes and dusty gray cowboy hat. Then, one lonely night when Rose Tyler was twelve and a half years old, lying awake in her mother's flat listening to the muffled white noise of the steady rain, a thought struck her. She let out a gleeful laugh, grinning at the ceiling, knowing that she would see him again one day, the mysterious man with the bright bowtie, floppy brown hair and faded tweed jacket. She giggled madly, not believing that she hadn't realized it before as his words from all those years ago echoed through her mind:
"I want you to forget me, Rose Tyler."
Letting out a laugh, she realized; she had never told the man her full name. She would most definitely see him again, and until then, Rose Tyler would wait. Wait for the man with the funny bowtie who smiled at the stars above like old friends.
Years later, Rose Tyler was nineteen years old. She had her own job, a boyfriend, and a life. It was hardly fantastic, but it was a life. Her younger self's fear had been realized; she had forgotten all about the stranger in the park, the stranger who could sometimes be seen standing on a street corner, just another face in the crowd, or as a shadow in a dark alley, leaning against a bright blue police box and watching her longingly from his hiding spot. She would meet him soon enough; the man with the leather jacket and the big blue box, who would run with her across the universe for all to short a time. Then of course the mad man with the box, a Doctor of sorts, many years later would find himself trying to talk himself out of approaching the little lost girl on a London afternoon in the park, and failing. Miserably.
One night, when Rose Tyler was fast asleep, the sound of the universe having an asthma attack echoed through the cramped confines of the small flat as a funny blue box appeared beside her bed. Out of the box stepped a young man with strange looking attire, bright ginger hair and impossibly old eyes that bore a deep sadness that could have made even angels (the vicious time traveling stone statue kind) weep. He stepping closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to touch the sleeping figure buried beneath tangled sheets.
The figure gave a soft moan, rolling over onto her side in protest, the soft wrinkles etched into that beautiful face cast into fierce contrast by the dull gray moonlight that poured into the room from a nearby window. Whips of silvery-white hair fell in front of her closed eyelids, swaying slightly in the slight draft coming in from the crack beneath the (bright TARDIS blue, he noticed with a rush of pride) door. The man drew his hand away as of he had been burned, tears pooling in his eyes as he gazed upon the fragile creature before him. Only then did he pause to glance around the room that he had found himself in.
The walls were a dull shade of pale gray, dutifully accommodating the stark white of the bed sheets and the steely gray of a small nightstand by the side of the metal framed bed. On top of the stand was a small vase overflowing with withered pink and red assorted roses that hung sadly from the carefully crafted clay lip of the vase. The man let out a soft, humorless chuckle, thinking it incredibly appropriate; wilted roses for a withering Rose. The woman in question was clothed in a simple baby blue gown, one arm stretched across the mattress while the other clutched a tiny something to her chest. Upon closer inspection, the man formed a genuine smile, perhaps the first in years, upon discovering it to be a small stuffed lion. The stuffing was bursting out of the torn seems and the black button eyes had long been lost, replaced with thick stitches, and one ear was missing. Patches of golden fur were missing and the small furry tuft at the end of the fabric tail was sparse and thin.
It was every bit as beautiful as the woman the held it.
Finally gathering the courage to reach out, the young man traced the side of her face with one hand, the other gripping hers tightly as the monitor beside the bed beeped rhythmically in the background.
He had finally done it. After three regenerations and countless decades, he had finally found a way to slip through the crack in the universe, finding his way back to her like they both knew he would. There had been an accident, mere minutes ago for him, and it was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. Maybe it was about time; after thousands of years traveling through time and space, maybe it was only right that the adventure came to a permanent end.
It was strange, really. Every other time he had died and been reborn, a warm, tingling sensation would creep through his body, finally overtaking him and drowning him in golden light. This time, however, he felt cold, like ice water was being slowly poured into his veins, a numbness that was both welcoming and terrifying.
But that was fine.
The man pulled away slowly, reluctantly, his eyes never leaving the body before him as the door to the blue box creaked open without being touched and the man retreated slowly into the dark interior.
"Goodbye, Rose Tyler. I..."
The blue box disappeared from sight with one last wheeze as the Doctor and his oldest companion faded from existence, once and for all.
The last thought that slipped through the Time Lord's mind as everything faded to black was a comforting, if bittersweet, notion as he heard the faint beeping of the heart monitor in the distance change to a constant, monotonous flat line.
She knows.