"Except…It means I'm gonna change. And I'm not gonna see you anymore."
You have to break it to them so gently. Like you explain death to a child. If you panic, they'll panic. But keep your voice steady, your words simple and light, and everything will be alright.
You can't tell her that it's death and worse than death. That it hurts and it burns, and while the memories live on, the self, the person, dies. That your heart is breaking because you love her so much and you'll never ever ever see her again. And that's what you want to tell her. That you'll miss her. That you loved her. And that he'll probably love her, too. But there's no sense in upsetting her anymore than you already have.
"And before I go, Rose, Before I go I just want to tell you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic."
And you give her your very best smile, because it's all you've got left to give. And you'd like to touch her but you can't. And you'd like to hold her hand one last time, or feel her head tucked under your chin. But you can sense it, now, starting to wash over you. Already, parts of you don't feel like parts of you anymore. The synapses screaming through your brain, rewriting who you were and replacing old code with new. It's all vaguely familiar; like it's happened before, but to someone else, a very long time ago. And you're scared. And you're sad. And you love her. And it's almost over.
"And d'you know what? So was I."
And with the last little bit of you left, you hope that you'll still love her in a moment. That the you that is not you will understand just how special this fragile human is. That he'll take care of her. Like you would, if you could stay. Like he will if he's got any heart. And with the last few neurons that belong to you, you send him a message.
"This is Rose Tyler. Trust me, you'll love her. Please take care of her. And take her to Barcelona."FIN