"I love you now and forever. Forever Rose."
The Doctor had long lost track of just how many years had passed since Rose had been gone. Maybe it's better that way, he thought to himself. With time came healing and without the possibility of ever seeing Rose again, may be one day his memories of Rose would be tucked away in such a distant corner of his mind that he would eventually remember her as being no more important and no different to him then any of his other companions. He had even gone so far as to chuck all of her belongings, in the vain hope that that would help, but in the end it had only made him feel worse.
He knew in his soul though that he didn't want to forget her, being able to remember her and what she meant to him was of more importance than being able to repair the pain he felt in his soul.
And so he continued day after day remembering Rose's crooked grin and that voice of hers that always seemed to make him feel better and the way that she always smelled like a blend of flowers and shampoo, only to then just as quickly and forcefully shove those thoughts of Rose away from him just as he had physically shoved her away whenever he was close to saying those three simple words to her--words he wanted to gift to Rose, words she finally gave to him the last time that he saw her, words that he knew deep down that he didn't really deserve to hear.
Truth be told, he wanted to damn himself for not telling her those three words back before she disappeared from his life forever.
He rubbed his temples. Missing Rose hurt his head and his hearts so much that he would have welcomed death.
I need you Rose.
I need you as much as you need me.
I love you Rose and no matter what, I will find you.