ONE DAY
Forgiveness is me giving up my right to hurt you for hurting me. --Anonymous
She can't look at him. She knows he's hurting, but a small part of her thinks that he deserves it. And she hates herself a little for feeling that way. But she's only human. And she thinks that she has learned to embrace selfishness. She can't help it. She can't go to him. She won't. A small part of her wants him to be punished for leaving her behind.
But watching him… cry. She can't. She just can't.
How can I think this way? Who am I?
She squeezes her eyes shut and wills her bleeding heart to tramp down the pain and just deal with it.
He will neverlove me, not that way, and I just have to get used to that. It's not his fault. He can't help being who he is anymore than he can help what he feels. He can't give me what I need because we're just mates. Maybe my old Doctor… but he's gone. He showed me the world… the whole universe… the whole of time and space and I'll never, ever forget him for it. He showed me love and he showed me life. But he's gone. I can't change that. Just like I can't change him. He cares about me… and maybe, just maybe that's enough. Inside, she laughs at herself. Who am I kidding? It'll never be enough. But I have to make it enough. It's no use trying to see things that will never be there. It'll destroy us.
She blinks back tears, wondering how it could possibly physically hurt so much. Her entire soul throbs, pulsing with the uneven pounding of her shattering heart. She has to be strong, she knows, if not for this him, then for the old him, who's still in there somewhere.
This is what mates are for, she reminds herself as she forces her feet to move. He would do the same for me.
She's concentrating so hard on making herself block her own emotions that she barely realizes she's standing just in front of him with no idea what to say. With a pang, her eyes trace the hastily wiped away tears near his chocolate brown eyes, and she doesn't know what to say to him anymore. "Doctor…"
"Where to next?" he asks with a falsely cheerful grin that breaks another little piece of her already throbbing heart. His eyes slide away from hers as he begins to move toward the console. Without thinking, she grabs his arm.
"Don't."
She nearly lets go of his arm at the harshness of his voice, but she forces herself to forge on. "Doctor," she says softly, pleadingly.
He tries to snatch his arm back, but she holds on tight.
"Doctor."
"Stop!" he screams. And this time, she can hear the tears in his voice. His heartbreak. They stand like that for an eternity, a minute.
His breathing is erratic, and she feels him trembling.
"Doctor, I—"
"Rose, I don't want to hear it." He looks at her suddenly, his eyes fierce.
"But, Doctor—"
Maybe some of her heartbreak shines in her eyes, because suddenly, his face morphs, his mouth curving cruelly. "Don't make this about you."
The words sting enough that she does let go, and she takes an involuntary step away from him. She doesn't know whether he said it to make her leave him alone or that he truly thinks she would hurt him this way, but it hurts her enough that for a moment, she wonders whether if she's finally overstayed her welcome. Whoare you? she wants to shout, but she doesn't. She stays silent, like she's done so many times since his big ears shrunk, since he stopped wearing that leather jacket, since his blue eyes turned brown, since she discovered that she couldn't blame it all on regeneration, since she realized he could and did lie to her—that being left behind isn't such an impossibility.
She's so busy thinking of all the reasons to stay with him that she almost misses the regret and guilt in his face. But like always, he says nothing. The Doctor doesn't apologize, she chants to herself, as she's done so many times before in silence with tears in her eyes and a fake smile plastered on her face.
"Please don't smile when you're sad," she says to him instead of slapping him and crying.
His eyes widen, and she feels the utter stillness emanating from him.
"She died didn't she?" she asks softly, gazing at the slightly crumpled letter lying on the metal grating near the console. He doesn't respond, but she knows. He wouldn't have come back alone if there had been a way. Rose looks up into his fathomless eyes, so full of the universe and pain. "I'm sorry, Doctor."
She doesn't know how else to apologize to him for something that was never—could never be—her fault; she doesn't know how to tell him that she wishes he didn't have to love and lose, that she wishes humans weren't so fragile, that she wishes she could be enough to take away his pain, that she wishes the time windows had been perfect, that she wishes it was Reinette standing here in front of him instead of her, at least for his sake.
"Oh, Rose."
She blinks in surprise as she finds herself enveloped in his arms. She hugs him back, of course, pauses only for a moment before doing so. He'll take this as forgiveness, she knows. And she thinks that maybe, it's okay. One day, she'll leave him and hurt him, not in the same way, but for that one day, he'll need this. They stay like that for what seems like forever, and she counts the heartbeats of her throbbing mortal heart.