Title: Ambiguity

Summary: Memories fade, we fill in the gaps. The missing pieces. And we try not to over-analyze them, lest they crumble under scrutiny. (Vague Doctor/Rose, Hints of Spoilers for the end of the season)

Pairings: Rose/Doctor. Sort of.

Category: Angst

Author's Notes: This is my first Doctor Who fic, and it will probably get me stoned by the other half were he to read it. It implies too much ship for the die-hards, and not enough for the shippers. On the other hand, I like it. In a "I need a beta" way. Anyone interested in the position should email me. Seriously, I don't have my bearings in the fandom yet, and a beta would be great. And if anyone has good fansites/forums, feel free to leave me a link. It would be much appreciated.

This was started right around the time I watched "The Girl in the Fireplace", a couple of weeks ago. It's been sitting around my hard drive, half finished. Then the soon to be Mr. FireSign up and decided to spoil the end of the season for me, and I decided to post it. Feedback is appreciated, especially the honest type.

Also, I started reading a story on here about a pregnant Rose. Anyone have an idea what the story is called? I'll give you a cookie.

The song lyrics are by Tom McRae, who has the power to reduce me to tears when lsitening to his music. I can't help but feel that the quote is wrong, which is reason number three thousand I need a beta.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Shocking, really.

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Here we are in the darkest place
To keep from forgetting, I picture your face
And I wonder, while we count the cost,
Which is sweeter
Love or it's loss

- My Vampire Heart, Tom McRae

Somehow, the memories have faded through the regenerations. You're never quite certain anymore if your memories are accurate recollections of past events or results of wishful thinking on your part; you find the ambiguity refreshing

You took her to the opening night of Casablanca, because she'd never seen it. You don't remember much about the movie, just the feel of the old theatre in New York with a pretty girl at your side. It was normalacy, or as close as you woud ever get.

You don't know if you told her you loved her. Your memories are tricky. You like to think so though, if only for your own selfish reasons. It's more likely, of course, that you didn't. That you took her across the universe and through time without a single mention of the word love. She was a smart girl though. She knew.

She made it easy to forget yourself, to take enjoyment from things you had started to see as ordinary. It was hard though, doing what needed to be done when half your mind was on keeping her safe. Because you had promised. And because as long as she was safe, you were too.

You failed her. She came to you one day, confused and scared and said words you never thought you'd hear: I've been at the park all day. If you ever need me, you can find me there. And you didn't have a reply. So you smiled, asked where she wanted to go this time.

Surprise me.

Still trusting you, still willing to follow you to the edge of the universe. Believing that you would keep her safe.

And you never corrected her.

You went to see her at the park, afterwards. It would have made a great movie: the slow turn, the grin she gave you. Then the slight falter, because something wasn't right and she didn't know what it was.

You're not my Doctor, are you?

And what could you say? So you kissed her, and she pulled away. Genuinely scared now.

What happened?

Her voice just a little shrill, a little tight. Not like her scream.

That sound you can't drown out. Ever.

So you tell her that she left you, and you needed to see her again. It's not a lie, not really.

She looks skeptical, which you expected.

She kisses you again though, which you didn't.

Whatever it is, it was worth it. You were worth it.

She smiled.

And the scream faded, just a little.

You're older now, older than you could have ever imagined. And it hasn't gotten easier, being alone.

Always alone.

The last of your race, a fate determined by your own hand. She knew and didn't reject you. And for a time, you felt slightly better about it. She trusted your judgement. She never should have done that.

You entertain thoughts of death.

It doesn't get you anywhere.

You'll die when you die, and until then you'll just keep up the charade.

Save the universe.

See history.

Try to heal.

You no longer remember the little things. Or the big things, coming to think of it. It's the stuff in between. Her excitement of setting foot on a new planet. Her love of chips, which really was bordering on irrational. The Bad Wolf.

Oh God, you remember the Bad Wolf. It's something you wouldn't mind forgetting, actually, Which means you won't.

But it also means you'll remember her.

Not that you need help. You hope.

Memories fade, you fill in the gaps. The missing pieces. And you try not to over-analyze them, lest they crumble under scrutiny. Because you're never quite certain anymore if your memories are accurate recollections of past events or the results of wishful thinking on your part. You find the ambiguity refreshing.

Sometimes it's the only way you survive..