My apologies to anyone who has written about this topic before in a similar vein. I saw Doomsday and immediately sat down to write this. Any similarity to previously written stories is entirely coincidental. This was my initial response to the incredibly moving scene between the Doctor and Rose at the end of Doomsday.

Disclaimer: Alas, I own nothing.

The coarse fabric of her mother's coat scratched her cheek. She could feel her tears soaking into the material, hot when they fell from her eyes, then instantly cool as the winter air hit them. She clung to the warm figure of the woman who'd raised her, the woman from who hugs had always been comforting- until now. Now, when the one person she wanted to be in the arms of was gone forever.

For the second time.

When she'd heard his voice, she'd followed without question. She had been pulled from the all-consuming sorrow in her heart by the hope that he was calling her back to him. That she would find him, and he would be smiling, waiting to take her hand and bring her back into his world.

Arriving at the beach had given her chills. It was a sign; everything about it was a sign. The grey water, the cold air, the flat sand surrounded by jagged rocks. There was no hope on the beach. A sunny meadow or a glade in a forest would've inspired hope, but not here, not this beach.

And there he was, a faded, transparent vision a few feet away from her. When she commented that he looked like a ghost, his hand reached out- oh how she loved his hands!- and the sonic screwdriver worked it's magic again. He was there, so life like she couldn't help but reach out. It was then that she experienced the agonizing pain of her heart rushing at the sight of him, and simultaneously collapsing at the knowledge that he was unreachable.

Had it been worth it? Was two minutes of seeing him worth it? Two miserably, wretchedly short minutes. For him, a blink in his life. For her, a moment that would linger with her till death. What could one say in two minutes to make it worth it? She could tell him about the family. She could try to understand the look on his face when he thought, briefly, that she was pregnant. She could mention the shop, and listen once more to his laugh. She could see his beautiful smile, hear the pride in his voice as he called her "defender of the Earth." And the terrible matter-of-factness as he told her she was dead in her world. His world.

But nothing cut deeper then the gentle way in which he told her she couldn't see him again. And that he'd go on alone, last of the time lords. Alone, without her, despite her desperate desire to be with him again. Even when she'd tried so hard, so very hard to stay with him for the rest of her life. The fact that she didn't want to imagine her life without him wasn't going to convince the universe to open up and let her return to him.

"I love you!" It was all there was to say, all that made sense. He knew, how could he not, and of course he'd laugh at her about it. But the moment of sobriety that followed, when his eyes were full of promises- those eyes that made her feel so safe and wanted- when he was going to say it-

And then he was gone. The words hadn't made it off his lips. He had vanished into the mist, and they still hadn't said goodbye.

As Rose raised her head off her mother's shoulder and turned around to look back at where he'd stood, she realized it hadn't been worth it. Seeing him again was too agonizing. All she had now, was a reminder of what hadn't been, could never be. All that was left were the unspoken words, and the cold knot inside of her that knew she'd never hear him say the one thing she most wanted. But then again, would it have been worth the pain of hearing him say it, knowing they could never indulge their feelings?

She wished he'd left the sun alone.

She wished he'd left her alone.

She wished…