Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Doctor Who, sadly..

A/N – I believe this is the mandatory, 'I've just discovered this fandom, watched the Doomsday episode and I need to let out some of the angst I feel for Rose and the Doctor' fic. There are Season 1 and 2 spoilers, and a slight mention of a Season 3 concept—though it won't hurt if you haven't seen it. Enjoy!

She Shines

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she would be one of the special ones. She had a certain sparkle about her that intrigued him. He was a curious Doctor, though one that preferred to keep things a bit more clinical. He would figure out this Rose Tyler, and then he would move on, quickly, painlessly. It sounded great in theory, but Rose was something out of the ordinary. She managed to wriggle herself into his being, because he was more than just a curious Doctor, he was the Doctor that carried gaping emotional wounds. Before he could even realize, she integrated herself completely into his world and started to heal him. This Doctor needed forgiveness, and she could give it.

So he accepted Rose Tyler, even knowing that it would hurt that much more in the end. She would heal him now, and break him when she left. She would be another lost soul to mourn, but he would deal with that when the time came—he had before.

It was in those final moments on the Game Station, that he realized just how fully Rose affected him, how significant this loss would be. Cool logic failed him, and he could only think of Rose. It was much too soon to lose her. So he sent her away. She wouldn't be there to witness his destruction of another race. He would finally die; there would be no need to mourn, not for his people, not even for her. He could find peace. It was selfish and cowardly, but he didn't care. If she lived, it would have all been worth it. Yet when she returned to him, glowing like some terrible goddess, he found hope and salvation. For a moment, he wasn't alone. She could see into the time vortex, she would save him, and they could be together. The Huon particles had made her like him, and he might not lose her in the end. But hope burns just as much as loss, she was human, and dying. There would be a choice—he would see her live, but not through his own eyes.

As the awkwardness of the regeneration passed, he learned that this new body had been tailored specifically for Rose. It must have been his heightened emotions at the time, revolving solely around her, because her hand fit just perfectly in his, their heights allowed him to comfortably drape an arm over her shoulders, to meld together just right for hugs, strength to pick her up to twirl, grace to dance, a grin that melted away her sorrow, looks that set her pulse racing. He had been the Doctor that toughed it out alone, one that demolished his species, even one that wore celery. But this Doctor… This Doctor would be the one that was in love with Rose.

So he cherished her. He soaked in every minute of Rose that he could, because he could feel deep down that their time was coming to an end. She would leave him, not by choice, and it would hurt like hell. He prepared himself; after every hug, every shared joke, every little glance, he would add a silent goodbye, knowing that it might be their last. Every time he said her name, he spoke it as a caress, as an unspoken I love you. Only a shred of self-preservation stopped him from giving himself to her entirely. When the time came, he would have to choose, and it wouldn't be as cut and dry as the time before.

As soon as he stepped into the flat, saw Jackie's ghost, he knew that time was up. He could feel each second slip away from him, almost as if it were an open wound, bleeding him dry. He would need Rose, to the end, he could feel it—but it was the end. He wouldn't be able to watch her grow old, to see how the Huon particles affected her long term. This adventure would be their last then he would have to make a choice, and not even he could be so selfish to rationalize one Rose Tyler over all of existence.

So he chose. He felt as though his hearts had been shredded to bits. Rose Tyler was gone, and she just nearly took his soul with her.

He'd been saying goodbye for so long, and now, facing her on that forsaken Norwegian beach, he couldn't find the right words to say. It was perfect while it lasted. You were my favorite. I'll always remember. I'm so damned glad that you are alive, even if we have to be apart. The words seemed wholly inappropriate. They both danced around the words they needed to say. Emotions shared, but never voiced.

"I love you."

"Rose Tyler..."

But it all came down to time, the bitter irony of a Time Lord—he might be able to manipulate time, but was ever at its mercy. She wanted to stay with him forever, and she would. The gaping Rose-shaped hole would stay with him till the very end; there would be no healing of this wound.

So here he stood, scrubbing at his face with hands built for her, wiping away tears that fell for her, sacrificing a sun, all for her. He was no longer the Doctor who loves Rose; he was the Doctor who loved and mourned for Rose Tyler, who shone brighter than all others.