Disclaimer: DW = not mine.
AN: So, I wrote this forever ago and I decided to post it for two reasons: 1. it's Friday and school drains me so I need to contribute to a fandom to be happy and 2. I was thinking about how, on Merlin, Arthur always says Gwen's full name and there's nothing quite like someone saying a loved one's name in a way that's unique to them. I love the way Nine says/said Rose's name so... yeah. Just a heads up, I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this, it's been a while.
There was something special about the way the Doctor said Rose's name.
It wasn't just his voice or the way his Northern accent made it sound completely different from they way it usually sounded, it was the way he said it, like she was something special. Even when he was angry or irritated, he still said her name with some sort of respect that Rose had never heard before. Before she had met the Doctor, hearing her name was just like hearing any other word, but once they knew one another, it was as if someone believed in her.
Her name had a meaning.
A dead-end shop girl was suddenly a heroic time-traveler and every time her Doctor said her name, she knew that she was able to make a difference.
But then, of course, he had to change. He changed his face, his voice, every single detail that Rose had come to associate with the fantastic man that had made her believe in herself again. When he said "Rose," at first it seemed that this new Doctor said her name in the same way that any old person would say it. Gone forever were the big ears and Northern accent, leaving her with a man that didn't feel anything like the Doctor she had known.
Slowly, though, Rose began to notice the special way her new Doctor said her name. It wasn't exactly the same way her old Doctor had said it, with a sense of admiration that a person would give the last good thing in the universe. This new Doctor said "Rose" in a way that made her sound like the best thing in a universe full of amazing, radiant things. He saw the worlds around him as something new and brilliant and, somehow, Rose knew that she had helped him regain his sense of adventure and curiosity.
Suddenly, Rose loved her name.
Then came Torchwood. Then came Canary Wharf. Then came the Cybermen and the Daleks. Along came Bad Wolf Bay.
And suddenly, Rose was standing on a beach, having a conversation that she never wanted to have, knowing that it was the last time she'd ever get to see her Doctor. It was the last time she'd ever get to hear her name said like she was the extraordinary person that the Doctor had helped her become.
And then came that very last moment. She never got to hear those three simple words, "I love you." Instead, she got two completely different words: "Rose Tyler."
In that instant, she heard everything she had ever heard her Doctor say in her name; she heard the admiration of the Doctor just after the war, the unmistakable friendship that had developed over the time the two had spent together, the ever-present love that neither would acknowledge until it was too late. And she also heard regret, apology, sadness, and fear. She heard a goodbye that she didn't want to have to be said as her best friend faded from sight.
Once again, the Doctor was lonely.
Once again, Rose's name sounded ordinary, even when she knew she wasn't.
AN: So, what do you think? It's a little romanticized, I think. But then again, I find lots of things to be romanticized so maybe that's just me. Either way, thanks for reading!
