He could feel the fire behind his eyes, the tingling in his fingertips, and he knew that it would shortly be over for him. But it was worth it, oh so worth it. He glanced quickly at the blonde girl, exhausted and frightened, who sat in the jump seat a scant few feet from him. He grimaced. She wouldn't understand, would panic. He wondered if she would be able to accept what he was about to change into. He wondered if he would remember the fantastic girl that he died to save. Of course, he would remember her - but would he be able to remember her smiles, her laugh, and the effect they had on him - Would he still care for her?
Clamping down hard on that non-productive train of thought, he twisted a few more knobs and gently eased the settings of the TARDIS to a familiar time. London, in December. Rose would want to see her family, he was sure. Energy sparked from his fingers to the console of the TARDIS, & he murmured an apology to the ancient machine. He could feel her humming under his touch, consoling him it seemed. She knew what was coming - had seen it before.
Rose was looking at him now, asking questions with a concerned look painting her face. She would have seen the energy arcing of off his hand. He grimaced, and waved off her concern. How to explain to her what was about to happen? He glanced at her, his mind flashing back to a few moments before, when she had held all of time in her head. Her eyes had sparked with the knowledge that had nearly killed her. Would have, if he hadn't let it kill him instead. She must never know - never know that what she had only meant for good had been the thing that would take him away from her. At least in this form. It would hurt her, and he would not stand for that.
He was finally satisfied with his adjustments, and turned to face Rose. She reached for him, trying to wrap her arms around him, comforting. He ordered her back, putting as much force as he could into the statement. He would not allow her to be hurt. Not after this. Laughing against the pain that was creeping down his arms, he began to make his apologies to her. He was sorry that she would never see Barcelona - not with him, anyways. Dogs with no noses. She didn't understand what he was trying to tell her, but she would soon enough. The mantra of his identity, his timeline, still chanted "nine of nine, nine of nine." in the back of his mind. He had some time left, but not much. Not enough. He smiled, and tried again to make Rose understand what a brilliant girl she was. She had been the one to make him feel again, to relearn how to truly enjoy life instead of simply going through the motions. He had been drifting, till she dropped into his life by accident and made herself indispensable to him. She was fantastic, and he told her so. He laughed, and added a egotistical comment to lighten the mood. Couldn't let her guess how much she really meant to him. As he felt the final shift in his timeline, he looked deep into her eyes and smiled. He hoped that she would remember the smile he gave her, instead of what was to come. His timeline whispered to him, "Nine of nine, nine of nine... Nine of ten, nine of ten, nine of ten..." the inferno in his chest erupted, and his last thought was of Rose.