Rose stood before the Doctor.
"There are five of us now. Mum, Dad, me, Mickey…and the baby." She bit her lip nervously. The Doctor's eyes bugged,
"Are you…?" He glanced at her belly. And there it was. The question she had always wanted to avoid. She knew she could lie, say her mum was up the duff. But she couldn't. If these were some of her last words to the Doctor, her Doctor, she couldn't lie.
"Yes." She said in a breath. The Doctor grinned,
"That's great. Mickey's a really great—"
"Not Mickey's. Yours." The smiles faded away as a tear slipped down Rose's nose. She took a deep, steadying breath and the Doctor ran a hand through his hair,
"It's my and your…"
"Yep." Rose gave a dry laugh and wiped away her tears, "Funny, isn't it? You're the last one of your kind, and now there's another, but you can't ever know them. And on top of it all, I'm crying. Stupid."
"No," the Doctor tried to cradle Rose's cheek but when it passed through her, he dropped it to his side, "not stupid." Rose looked up and saw he was crying too, even though he had a smile that practically split his face in two. "No tears, Rose. My darling, lovely Rose." A tear of his own fell from the Doctor's eyes as his smile dropped, "I'm sorry. So very, very sorry." He was starting to fade.
"I love you!" said Rose, as if she thought it would make him stay.
"And I love you." he said back, and he was gone. Back on the TARDIS, surrounded by the little bells and whistles that would never replace his Rose, he whispered to himself, "Both of you."