‹‹I'm burning up a Sun just to say goodbye››
The breeze was wrinkling the waves, raising the sand, dancing below Rose's hair and blowing, blowing hard across the beach. It blew just right where he was standing. It was the same breeze, Rose suddenly realized: the breeze which was whispering in her hears was the same breeze which was blowing near him.
We are both here, touched by the same breeze, but he's not here. He's here, just a few inches away from me, and he couldn't be farther away. Is this fair?
No, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.
She had seen the universe with him. She had seen sceneries which were so amazing to exceed the craziest dreams she had had as a child, she had witnessed behavior so terrible and evil to make her worst nightmares insignificant. With him, she had run until she gasped for breath, she had cried until she ran out of tears and she had laughed until she couldn't breathe. With him she had felt smaller and more helpless than an ant and at the same time stronger than any other creature in the whole universe. With him she had learnt that life was much more than catching the bus to work, that true happiness was much more than seeing the amount on the allowance at the end of the month and that real anger was much stronger than being angry at Mikey when he acted as a whimsical child.
With him, Rose had known a better way to live, a way to live that was extremely more complete than the way she lived before he had entered her life, a lifestyle made of decisions taken in a minute, of small acts of charity which could save entire species, of feelings which were a thousand times more intense than the ones she had felt through her whole life. Day after day she had got used to seeing the Doctor's eyes lighting up every time a happy though ran across his mind, she had got used to the way he tidied up his coat while he was thinking, she had got used to his childish happiness which made him accept every news with the curiosity of a newborn kid who opens his eyes on the world for the first time.
Rose was born again when he had entered her life. It was like she had lived in a dark room up to that moment, enjoying the darkness but knowing something was missing, and then, suddenly, someone had broke in, breaking the door and letting the light in.
Thanks to him, Rose was born again. Because of him, she had died twice. She had died for the first time when she had found herself in her father's arms in a universe which was not hers, and now she was dying again.
Now she was dying again, completely, because that was a farewell. It was a farewell to the stars, to the planets and the times he had promised her, to running and feeling terrified, to joy and desperation. But, mostly, it was a farewell to the Doctor, to his warm fingers in hers when they were running together, to hugging him with that joy mixed with desperation you feel when you realize you are alive even if you shouldn't be, to seeing him smiling with admiration, wonder, amazement. It was a farewell to all that had been and to all that could have been.
It was the same breeze. The Doctor heard the breeze singing, Rose felt it touching her face. If she had listened carefully, she could have heard the breeze singing too: it was singing a sad melody, a song of past adventures and future feeling she would have never felt. It was singing the song of Rose Tyler, born again in the storehouse of the place where she had worked and dead twice, first in a Torchwood office and now, again, on the white sand of a beach.