Inspired by the 'Rose turns into a Weeping Angel' post on tumblr.
"How?" he asks, later, in the safety of the TARDIS (and she doesn't like it, oh no, he's piloted her long enough to hear the uneasy snarling hum that is lower than sound, but she'll just have to trust him on this one).
"I don't know," she whispers, so close behind him, and he misses it so, the warm breath that should be there and isn't. "I tried to find you. I broke time. Broke it to little pieces. I wanted it for so long, after: time. But there was none. There was nothing at all, where I'd fallen. And then I found a way out, but…
He stares straight ahead. "…but only when no one's looking."
"Yes." Her voice wavers. "Doctor, there's so much time here, and I want it so much but I can't take it because I know better than that, you taught me better—"
"Shh," he murmurs, and wonders at the perverse cruelty of the universe. "It'll be alright, Rose. You've been good. You've been so good, and we'll come up with something, and until then you can stay here, eh?"
He stops, because he doesn't quite trust himself to go on. He doesn't know if he'll be able to keep this promise and he shouldn't be making it, but it's Rose and she's here and he can't not pretend for her that everything will be fine.
"Thank you," she says, because she knows what he's doing and she appreciates it anyway. "And thanks for not lookin' at me."
He does not turn around, and he does not say i'm sorry, because she already, already knows.
And then she is gone, into the depths of the TARDIS, fast as a blink, silent as an angel.
And as his hearts convulse with the pain of irradiation and his body begins the process of burning from the inside out, the old girls hums her ancient mechanical lullaby, and carries him away to the year 2005.