This is is a fic set in two different times. The italics is Rose dying. The normal font is the Doctor thinking, years on. Tell me what you think, constructive criticism appreciated. Please R&R.
I don't own Doctor Who.
"Why, why Doctor?"
There were tears poring down his cheeks, but he ignored them, "I don't know Rose."
"I- I'm freezing." She was, she was shivering uncontrollably.
"You'll be okay, you have to be."
"I- I know, I trust you and- and I love you." she whispered.
"I love you too. I love you too Rose Tyler."
"I know." She smiled weakly, her eyelids flickered.
"Rose! Rose, stay with me, please darling!" He pleaded, through strangled sobs.
"B- bye D- Do- Doctor." Those were the last words Rose Tyler ever uttered.
They stayed in the Doctor's heart forever. Three regenerations and twelve years on, he still remembered the dying moments of Rose Tyler. He loved her so much it hurt. And it hurt even more when he remembered the panic in her eyes, the way she had clutched his jacket as though she could never let go.
"Rose! Please don't go! Please, ple…" His voice faded to nothing as he cradled her, watching his tears drip onto her cold, pale face. Her hand slackened and slipped from his sleeve. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it, over and over. Trying to wake her up, knowing it was impossible. He looked around him. With a pang he realised it was the parallel Dalig. The beach where they had parted for the first time, four years ago. He placed his hand over the gunshot wound and scarlet blood over her heart, not caring as it covered his skin and saturated his shirt cuff that was poking out of the end of his sleeve.
He pressed a button on the TARDIS console and listened to the familiar wheeze and groan of the old, protesting engines. He stood back, not knowing where the old disguised police box was taking, not even caring. He didn't care anymore. He had lost the hungry sense of adventure, the need to explore every nook, every cranny. The need to solve any mysteries that appeared. The grin that had once plastered his boyish face almost permanently was gone, replaced with sadness, grief and pain.
Suddenly the realisation hit, she was gone, gone forever. He let out a howl, a howl of pain, sadness, grief and anger. Anger at the person who had shot her, anger at guns, anger at the attitude of the universe. Why was war acceptable? Why were guns acceptable? Nuclear weapons? Laser weapons? Anything that people could use to willingly cause the death of another living being? Why? He had lost so many people. Every time lord, his entire race, his daughter, Jenny, hundreds of others. And now Rose had to join that list. She had been nineteen when they had first met, just before he had blown up the shop where she worked. Now she was twenty-four. So young. She had had so much life to enjoy and such a bright future ahead of her. Now it was gone, like the flick of a switch.
The engines jammed, the Doctor flicked a switch to help them and they continued to work noisily before the ship ground to a halt. He opened the doors and stepped outside. He recognised it immediately. Dalig. The beach where he had lost Rose Tyler. Twice. The beach that held so many memories as the waves touched upon the shore. He knelt down, picking up a handful of fine sand, letting it sift through his thin, nimble fingers. He listened to the waves, the wind. Trying so hard to block out the memories. The memories that continued to haunt him, every day of his life, as he travelled to planets, past stars and supernovas and hundreds of other amazing things. Things that he had shared with so many companions, Susan, Ian, Barbara, Polly, Jamie, Sarah-Jane, Leela, K-9, Adric, Tegan, Nyssa, Romana, Peri, Ace, Grace, Martha, Jack, Donna, Astrid and Rose, among others.
"Goodbye Rose Tyler." He choked.
He stroked her blonde hair, brushing it back off her clammy forehead. It was so soft. Like silk. It was funny, he had never noticed it before, there were so many things about her he had never noticed before today. And now it was too late. He took off his moleskin jack and covered her with it. An almost subconscious gesture, a gesture that was too late. That summed him up, always too late, too late to save people, too late to help people, too late to protect people.
So many names, etched on his memory, along with the people he had lost, the people he had failed to save. Hundreds of names. He missed all of them, he hadn't shed tears over all of them, something he had regretted and would always continue to regret. Tears mattered, Rose had taught him that. It was good to cry, to use tears to show feelings he would never have shown otherwise. Rose had taught him so much, he realised, as he knelt on the sand, tears flowing as he reminisced.