He stared at her. His Rose, his beautiful Rose, his wonderful, fantastic, brilliant Rose.
And she was gone.
Just pictures now. Pictures and memories, nothing more.
He stroked the picture, feeling the edges crumble a little bit more.
Feeling her crumble a little bit more.
His Wolf, his light, his love. Gone.
Dead.
How could she be gone?
How could she die?
She was the Bad Wolf. She created herself.
And she had let herself die.
He stood up in a rage and shouted.
He threw things at walls and screamed profanities at the world.
He broke glass and destroyed memories from other people.
A blue gem from Jo Grant.
A book from Donna Noble.
A coat from Jack Harkness.
Eventually, he sank to his knees, exhausted.
She was gone.
She was dead.
The Bad Wolf should have saved her.
She would have been able to travel her universe in her own TARDIS.
Feel the twin heart beats in her chest.
She should be like him.
She should be a Time Lady.
Jenny had given him hope that that could happen.
It all went wrong.
Now she was dead.
Rose Tyler, beautiful Rose Marian Tyler, was dead.
She was dead, and he was trying to feel.
He hated this incarnation.
This one was trying to distract him from his feelings.
He wanted to be sad.
He wanted to cry and scream and just give up.
Everything he loved left him.
Susan left him.
Jo left him.
Sarah Jane left him.
Nyssa left him.
Katarina-Katarina died when she left him.
Leela left him.
And now Rose, his light, his wolf, his love, was dead.
Dead, and his body wouldn't let him mourn.
How could she be dead?
She couldn't be dead.
He promised her forever with the metacrisis him.
And she had died.
She was dead and he had broken his promise.
They all ended up dead sooner or later.
The Brigadier was dead.
Oh, they had such times together.
He would still pour an extra scotch for the Doctor.
But now he was gone.
And Rose was gone.
And Jo and Sarah Jane and Susan and Leela and Nyssa and Tegan and Donna and Martha and Amy and Rory and River and Ian and Mickey and Jamie and Victoria and Barbara and Romana and Katarina and Mickey and Jack-they were all gone.
They all left him, sooner or later.
Now Rose, his precious Rose, was gone.
All this trouble started with Nine.
Nine had gotten him even more attached to Earth.
The stupid apes.
Ten had gotten him the most attached to Earth.
Because that's what you humans do! You explore!
Now here he was, Eleven, and he couldn't mourn Rose.
Not properly, anyways.
He would get another companion and they would ask about other companions.
And he would smile and say nothing while he thought about her.
Rose.
Rose was gone.
Amy and Rory were dead.
The Brigadier was dead.
Why do they all have to go and die?
Even Martha, clever enough to get out while she could was burned.
Working with UNIT, and might die soon
Donna, Donna who just wanted to save one family from Pompeii, lost her memories.
Because he was in danger and she wouldn't leave him.
Why did all these people have to be so caring?
Like Rose and Donna and Jo and Sarah Jane and Amy and Rory and Ian and Victoria and Jamie and Barbara and Susan.
Why did they all have to care about him so much?
And now they were dead.
Dead or not remembering.
This was why he didn't do domestics.
Stupid TARDIS.
Why did she have to tell him?
He could've just ignored his past and kept running.
Running from all the people he's hurt.
Running from Susan, from Ian, from Jamie, from Victoria, from Jo, from Sarah Jane (who he hears died), from Tegan, from Nyssa, from Romana, from Ace, from Rose.
All of them.
Just keep running.
He was always running, from the first moment he looked into the time vortex.
Run.