this story is for Adrienne, the best friend anyone could ever had. she was the one who brought out the artist in me and asked me to carry on in her name.

for those who did not know her check out her story "At the end of all things", (still on my/her profile) and i dare you not to be moved by it.

for Addy.

She's never been so terrified, with the sun beating down on her back and the smell of dust and fumes thick at the back of her throat, hair matted from where she'd pushed it back from her face with bloodied fingers.

She looked at her hands now, at where they pressed against his stomach, blood welling thick and fast between them, spilling over already soaked cloth to drip and pool on the hot tarmac. She looked at his hands covering her own, the skin covering his knuckles grazed and pulled back. She looked at the girl crying uncontrollably on the kerb, wrapped in her mother's arms.

She looked at everything, so she didn't have to look at his face. Agony had dulled his eyes and unconscious tears had escaped, trailing glistening patterns on his face that reflected the summer sun back at her. There was nothing she could do to hold back her own.

She shifted, pressing more firmly against the open wound, not knowing if she was doing more harm than good, not caring about the rough surface of the road that tore at her knees. She felt his body tense under her hands; his head arcing back as he gritted his teeth, a minute sound of pain escaping.

She was aware of them, standing and staring, doing what everyone did. She wanted to scream at them, to lash out, but at the same time she needed them here, with their hands over their mouths, too shocked to look away.

"Rose."

Her name shouldn't sound like that, spoken with such pain. She shook her head, daring to look up at his face to see if he had watched her do it.

"Don't speak." Her own voice was thick.

His face tense, pulling at the cut above his eye. "I'm sorry." He gasped, his breathing shallow and pained.

"No." she said, not entirely sure what she was denying.

"Rose…" He said again, his fingers tightening on hers.

"Don't." she looked at him then, at his beautiful face white with agony, and his fathomless eyes dark with pain. "It will be okay." She said softly, an odd acceptance to her tone. The meaning was lost on the crowd, but not on him.

"No." he tried to shake his head but was stopped when she rested a hand on his cheek, fresh blood smearing across his skin as she tried to soothe him. She was whispering and muttering to him now, hurried words of 'it will be okay' and 'don't worry, I'm here', but no matter what she said she could not dispel the pain. It was a different pain, not caused by the tearing of flesh with metal, a pain she didn't understand, until he opened his eyes, a look of deep unending regret.

"I lied." He whispered.

Roses mind faltered, her brow creased. "What?"

"I lied." He said again, eyes closing for a moment as a fresh wave of pain seemed to shake him. He looked up at her imploringly. "This is my last."

All thought for Rose stuttered and stopped. He wasn't making sense. She shook her head. "I don't…" she began, but stopped. And suddenly eternity spread out beneath her, her heart and stomach dropping into its limitless depths. "No." she whispered, horror prevalent in her choked voice.

"I'm sorry." And she could tell that he knew she understood.

She didn't understand. Why had he lied, he didn't need to lie, not to her, his Rose. Why lie to her about this, why promise forever when …

"I don't understand." She whispered brokenly, throat clenching around her emotion.

And amongst it all, within the blood, and dust and summer heat, he smiled, a simple smile that took her breath away. "I didn't want you to worry." He said softly. He raised his hand so it could touch her face, fingertips tracing her cheek and smudging deep crimson across her pale skin, thin rivers of it dripped from his palm, curled around his wrist and snaked in new paths across the grazed and unmarred skin of his arm where it ended, soaking into his crisp white shirt where the sleeve had been rolled up. It had been a warm day, and he hadn't worn his jacket.

"No." she was denying him again, muttering the word over and over again as her eyes pressed closed, hot tears washing her cheeks and washing at the blood, his blood. Her other arm came up, capturing his hand and pressing it to her face, her grip tight and manic as she continued to deny. If she held on…

"You said…" she said, her words lost as she turned her face into his hand. "You said forever."

She opened her eyes, his face a blur before more tears fell.

And he was crying too, a slow steady stream of tears as he gazed at her. "I'm sorry." He said again, the words barely reaching her ears. "I'm so sorry." His breath caught, "I…" his fingers flexed against her cheek, stroking her face as much as her hold would allow, his eyes mapped her face, taking everything in, the way she cried, the way the breezed toyed with her hair, the patterns of tears and blood mixing on her skin, the way she looked at him. He moved his hand slightly, and she let him go just enough for him to run his thumb along the swell of her lips, lingering at the corner of her mouth. "I love you." He whispered, the full meaning in the depths of his eyes. "I should have told you sooner."

Rose could feel her chest heave and struggled to calm herself, but it was hard to ignore, hard to forget what was happening, that he had lied and this was the last time, for all those years planned with him to come down to this. He had told her they had time, all of time, and she had believed him, because he was her Doctor. But instead he was here, body broken and mind alive, such a terrifying place to be.

"I knew." She said softly, and she smiled faintly at him, wishing on all that was dear that they were somewhere else, or that it was a dream, a nightmare, but the ache in her chest let her know it was real. It was the end. "I love you too." She struggled to say it, to keep the hysteria inside and stay calm just now, just for him, until the end. But it tore away inside her, caused her breath to hitch, her body to shake and the tears to fall. "I love you too." She muttered brokenly, body curling in on it's self as she broke down, her head coming to rest briefly on his chest, his hand moving to push his fingers into her air, holding her against him as she cried.

She pressed her face into his shirt, letting it soak up her tears and feeling the heat of his skin beneath, the sluggish beat of slowing blood. She reached out and grasped at his shoulder, pulling herself further into him, twisting and winding the cloth taut in her hand. "Don't leave me." She choked; sobbing breathes heating the space between her mouth and his body. "Please don't leave me."

She could feel him breathing, a slow, shallow, laboured sound and she ached for him.

"Rose." The hand in her hair shifted and moved, guiding her so that she looked at him, his face calmer now. Her hand was till against his cheek, the blood between their skin keeping them together. "Rose…" he said again, his voice breaking in a way that was so unlike him, he searched her eyes again, stripping her bear and leaving her vulnerable, even now. "Kiss me."

So many times had Rose wanted to hear those words, so often she had wanted to say them herself. But not like this, not with death and despair creeping upon them with each excruciating second that passed them by, time suddenly so precious now. But she could never refuse, not him, not her Doctor. So she leaned forward, her hair drifting along his chest where her hand tightened further into his shirt, making his body lean towards her. And their breath met in the air between them and tumbled over their skin, making the moment so impossibly real, and despite the blood on her lips, and the way her hair stuck to his hand and face, she kissed him. His lips were dry, but they were soon beyond that. It was slow and it was unbearable painful, the way he opened up to her, for her to breathe his dying breaths and kiss his pain away. His lashes wet against her cheek as his eyes drifted closed. His arm came up to hold her, to brand with searing heat against her shoulder as he pulled her to him, giving himself up entirely.

And they kissed, as they should have done so very long ago, and with the knowledge that this would only ever be it, their first and last. She tipped his head, pressing again and with renewed vigour, oblivious to the crowd who witnessed them. This was all she would ever have, and the very real terror that clawed at her chest of knowing that made it so much more desperate.

But it was beautiful, which made it all the more heartbreaking, the way he matched her perfectly, lips and tongue meeting her own in such splendoured, earth shattering harmony, making her regret the lost time all the more. And so she kissed him goodbye, and stroked his face, for as long as he needed her. And she ignored the way his hand shook as he held it against the nape of her neck, or the way his body trembled and his pulse slowed beneath her hand, or how he needed fewer and fewer breaths, until he slowed, bestowing upon her such light and gentle kisses that made her eyes tear again. And he opened his eyes and looked up at her, a strange light within them as he kissed her one last time and whispered to her "I'm sorry."

And she would not look away, not move her gaze from his as she watched as the light faded and his eyes dimmed, his hand sliding from it place on her neck to fall and lay motionless at his side and slowly, inevitably, his eyes closed, and she felt once more and for the last time, his breath upon her face.

Her Doctor.

She wished she had never asked to come home, to catch up with her mum. She wished she had never suggested going for a walk. She wished they had gone to the other park instead of this one. And she wished more than anything that the little girl had not let go of her mothers hand to follow the path of her lost balloon. And she wished that as time went by she could forget the sight of him running, one arm caught around her small frame as he turned her away from the car, knocking her forcefully into the arms of her frantic mother.

"Come on lass." A hand touched her shoulder, hesitant, afraid to touch something so raw. "Come away now, the ambulance is here."

She could see the faint change in colour on his pale face as the lights flashed, not that they could do anything now. So with a last touch to his face, a press of lips to his, she unfolded from where she had been kneeling as brightly uniformed paramedics swarmed around him. She was drawn away by the hand on her shoulder, her face turning not being able to bear looking any more. At her poor Doctor, who defied time and showed her the stars, who saved lives and ended them.

She wiped at her tears and looked up at the crowd, at the man by her side and their pitying stares and horrified tears. They were talking to her, trying to touch her. But she couldn't hear, could only hear his words, his last words, could still feel his touch, could feel him under hers. She could still taste him, warm copper melting into her tongue to forever remind her of him whenever she tasted blood.

She stood and waited, for the inevitable, the agonizing crash that would fall upon her, bringing her to her knees in a furious maelstrom of agony and heartbreak. She raised her hands to her face and waited for it to come, listening to the sounds of the crew working behind her, to the soft voices of trained professionals as they tended to him, replacing her touch with theirs.

And she waited, and waited a terrible, agonizing lifetime until she heard it, such impossibility, and with such hope.

"We have a pulse."