The Doctor stands at the threshold of his TARDIS, looking out into space. The stars and the nebulas and the galaxies dance and shine, but the sight only looks distant and cold.

"I- I love you."

"Quite right, too. And I suppose. If it's my last chance to say it…"

The Doctor holds a rose. Just a rose. A simple flower; delicate, yet incomprehensibly beautiful. The petals wrap and flutter around each other, around the single middle bud. Velvety cuts of nature. It is a red rose. A single red rose. What did a single red rose mean, again? Come now Doctor you know what a red rose means.

"Rose Tyler…"

His fingers twirl the stem, sharp with thorns. He cuts his fingers carelessly. He bleeds and doesn't care. The drops of blood fall off into the glittering emptiness of space. So beautiful, yet sharp and painful. Like his rose. He glances down at the flower in his hand. No. Not this rose.

His Rose.

Rose Tyler. His Rose Tyler. Sometimes, he would relive every moment he ever spent with her in his mind, rebuilding the events from memory. He spent hours like that sometimes. It was good and fun until he reached the end. The end when they both held as tightly as they could to the magna-clamps, the pull of The Void all too prominent. That part hurt. It always hurt.

Suppose… he thinks. Suppose. Staring out into space, he lets himself daydream, wander and imagine the what-if. He could relive events in his mind, so why not… change some? Just for a second pretend it was different.

The lever starts to slide, he watches as Rose sees it. He sees it in the reflection of her eyes, what exactly she plans to so. Fix the lever to save the world.

She grabs the lever; the energy of the vortex yanking her away from him. She grips the lever tighter.

"Hang on!" He shouts, "ROSE!" He adds as she slips.

He didn't want it to be this way. And this was the what-ifs, so he could change it. If he wanted. The Doctor willingly lets go of his own magna-clamp, the only thing keeping him safe and the only thing keeping him from his Rose. He catches her this time, and there is no Pete Tyler coming to take her to another universe. There is only the Doctor and his arms around Rose as they are both sucked through The Void, still in each other's arms.

He is back in the doorway of the TARDIS, staring out into the vastness of space. The rose is still in his hand, and how he wishes she was too. Her hand in his, as they ran, or as they adventured, or as they did anything really. What he would give to hold her again…

What if…

He sees her at the beach, but she is stronger. She doesn't cry- doesn't even say she loves him this time. He thought changing this would make it easier; if she never says it, he never knows. Of course, he still knows. But he can trick himself into pretending he doesn't. As long as she doesn't say it.

"Same old life, last of the timelords."

"Alone?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." She says hollowly, and finishes with "Then goodbye, Doctor."

"Rose Tyler, goodbye."

And that's how he changed it. She never said it, so he never has to have his chance of replying cut off.

But that's not what he was going to say, that's not what she told him. And it still breaks his hearts, knowing what he wanted to say but never did. His hand works its way to the top of the rose, the actual flower. The Doctor's palm is already red with blood. He holds the flower more harshly than he should.

"I suppose…"

Some of the petals crush under his hand. If he could change one thing right now, only a small thing. He knew what it was.

"If it's my last chance to say it…"

He wanted his Rose, yes. But he couldn't have her. Not now, and he knew it. So if there was one thing to change, one thing that he could convince himself of, convince himself really happened. Only for a second.

"Rose Tyler…"

What does a red rose mean, Doctor?

"…I love you." He says out loud. The phrase's sound dies in the vastness of space, but there. He said it.

"I-I love you."

"Quite right, too. And I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it; Rose Tyler, I love you."

That is how it happened, he tells himself. She knew, he said it.

But he didn't.

And she never heard him, even though she knew.

But he can pretend. He can pretend he said it and maybe, just maybe, if he lies long enough, he'll believe it.

The Timelord looked down at the crushed rose in his hand, a crooked stem with blood and petals. He reached out his hand and dropped the flower off into space, the petals of the broken, beautiful rose floating away, lonely and lost to him forever.

Just like his Rose.

Hello there, readers!

Here is my first try at angst. I'm finally watching Doctor Who (And I am a Whovian now!) and when I got to Doomsday... well you can see what I was inspired to write. I wrote this quite awhile ago when I was on a fanfiction angst-athon and was debating whether or not to post it, as Real Angst isn't my normal style. But then. Always good to try new things, right?

~*Reviews Please*~

*~Ynnealay~*