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He can feel it begin. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but one by one his cells are beginning to die. He can feel each one as it goes, giving up, ceasing to function. This funny gangling body is failing him. Too bad, really, he'd been getting used to it.
He had hoped, dared to hope for one brief moment, that it might be alright. He'd held the universe for so short a time, just long enough to reshape it, to send it out of his body and back to the TARDIS where it belonged. So short, but not short enough. He laughs and looks down at Rose, so peaceful, resting on the floor where he'd placed her. That power in her eyes had terrified him. But he'd been afraid for her, not of her. Never of her. Such a terrible power to be held in such a tiny human brain. He laughs again. Her tiny human brain had proved to be more resilient than his own. But she's safe now. She'll be safe.
He'd sent her away. It had nearly killed him to do it, he could hardly bear to have her so far from him, but he needed her out there, living her life, so that he could do what he had to do. She was his reason, all of his reasons, for everything. He had to keep her safe, above all else. What was the point in saving a universe if it didn't have Rose Tyler in it?
It frightens him how much he loves her. He feels a tear slip down his face at the thought of the worlds he'll never see her see. He'll never show them to her now. Pain ghosts through his body, another organ giving up the fight, and he clings to the console for support.
"What happened?" She's awake, herself again, young and brash and fragile, and he smiles. She doesn't remember. It's better this way. They were never meant to be, her and him. He could see that every time he looked into her eyes. One hell of an age gap, she'd said. Maybe if he could've held on as they were for another ten years. She'd have been older then. Maybe she'd have been ready. But not now. He'd wanted to tell her. Ached to tell her, every time he'd held her in his arms, he'd wanted to say it. But he knew that she didn't feel the same. She loved him, of course, but he was still a game to her. She couldn't feel the way he felt, and it wouldn't have been fair to burden her with it.
A moment's unease as he remembers her words. "I want you safe. My Doctor." Odd how she'd echoed his thoughts back to him. She'd looked into the heart of the TARDIS. Had she known what she'd see? She'd grown up years since he'd sent her away. Maybe she'd grown up enough. A few more days. If only they could've had a few more days.
He hears himself talking, bantering, babbling, as she tries to sort out her memories. He tries not to think of that single glittering moment when everything had been equal, and it had been perfect. He tries not to remember how her mouth had felt against his as their minds and hearts linked, two lovers with the knowledge of all time shared between them. It had lasted ten seconds. Nine hundred years had all been worth it, for those ten seconds.
He can see the changes beginning now, his body is begging to die so it can be remade. It wants to escape its pain. He has to tell her. She needs to know what's coming. There's so little time now. A time lord, and he's run out of time.
He has to say goodbye.
"I just want to tell you, you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic."
Her eyes are dark, confused. He'd give anything to see her smile, one last time.
"And do you know what? So was I."
She'd been willing to sacrifice herself for him, so that he could save the world. In the end, she'd saved the world, and he'll die having saved her from herself. He hopes someday she'll forgive him for it.
He looks into her eyes, and lets go.
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