Rose Tyler sat alone on bad wolf bay, watching the waves crash into the sand. She shivered, and looked behind her, knowing what she would see – or rather, wouldn't – and wishing with all of her heart that she could see the one thing that she needed to.
Nothing was there.
She sighed, inwardly cursing at herself. Of course he wasn't there. Why would he be there? He'd said himself, that this was the last time that he'd see her again. She could remember the day clearly – the last day she'd seen the doctor. She'd stared into the eyes of the metacrisis as he'd whispered the words that she'd been waiting for her whole life – "Rose, Tyler, I love you." And she'd kissed him. She hadn't known that her doctor – the one she loved, the one she knew – had gotten onto the tardis and left. Just left her. Left her alone on a beach. For days afterwards, she'd been distraught – no one could speak to her, for she would speak to no one. Even the metacrisis doctor would try to comfort her, and she'd send him away. She'd stared at her wall, clutching her tardis key in her hands, not crying, not speaking, not eating. Just staring.
Rose shook her head, trying to clear the memory. She didn't want to revisit the past – at least not things like that, she didn't. She remembered everything so clearly now. Sometimes, remembering things hurt. Some days were worse than others – sometimes she was up, laughing and playing – sometimes she could barely get out of bed, her head hurt so much. And honestly, she wasn't sure wether or not she was glad that she'd taken the risk that she had. She'd planned on telling her doctor what she'd done, what she always had done – sacrificed everything to stay with him. But there had never been time. As soon as she thought that he was going to finally take her with him, he'd left. And now – now she didn't know wether he was even alive or not.
Rose bit her lip. He hadn't even asked how long she'd waited. Of course he hadn't asked. She laughed, a bitter sound. But no one ever asked, and No one ever stayed. And after a while, she'd learned to stop expecting them to.
She brushed the sand off of her hands. She liked it here, liked living on the beach – even though the mere memory of it was painful, like a knife in her hearts every time that she thought of him. But it was a good kind of pain. She stared at the spot where the tardis had left her a hundred years ago, and she sighed. And then, Rose Tyler, the valiant child, the bad wolf, the time lady – stood up, brushed herself off, and walked off of the beach. After all, she smirked, brushing her hair out of her face – after all, she had a job to do.