You lot, you spend all your time thinking about dying, like you're gonna get killed by eggs, or beef, or global warming, or asteroids. But you never take time to imagine the impossible. Like maybe you survive. This is the year five point five slash apple slash twenty six, five billion years in your future, and this is the day... Hold on... This is the day the sun expands. Welcome to the end of the world.

- The Doctor, The End Of The World

Today is the day before her fiftieth birthday. She doesn't celebrate birthdays on the TARDIS, she doesn't want to remind him of her age. Of time passing. She doesn't want to remind herself that she is another year closer to him having to leave her behind.

She looks into the mirror in their bedroom. She's aged well, she stopped dying her hair blonde years ago but it grows in that way on its own now. Some quirk of genetics. Only a few grey hairs to be found, and it travels down her back in waves. The years of running have kept her slim. And when The Doctor looks at her she doesn't stop and wonder if he thinks she is beautiful. Although that may be slightly due to the perks of having a psychic bond with your - not husband, not boyfriend- partner.

But her face doesn't lie. There are wrinkles at the corners of her eyes that didn't used to be there. She looks away, because it's easier than acknowledging it. She can still run with him. She's not too old. But the word "Yet" lingers at the end of the thought.

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The Doctor realizes that he isn't strong enough to let her go on her fifty-fith birthday. He knows, he always knows when its her birthday. It's the first day in her timeline. He can see the amount of time she's been alive anytime he looks at her, hell, even when he thinks about her. It's always there. But she never reminds him, someday perhaps he'll thank her for that.

He knows that she knows that the end of their time together on the TARDIS is coming. But what she doesn't know, what he keeps behind the door in his mind- truly he only secret from her at this point- is that the day he was going to send her away has come and gone.

Once, he had forced himself to destroy an entire world. Now, he can't even stand the thought of sending this human woman away from his side. He's gone soft. He can't even bring himself to regret it.

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She is sixty today, Rose realizes. Her hand is clasped in his and they are running from a group of blue aliens with spears that don't look ceremonial. She is sixty years old, and she is pretty sure she has developed arthritis in her knees. And it hurts. She grips his hand tighter, pushes herself to be a little faster for him. A little stronger. He looks back at her, checking to make sure she is keeping up. When she was nineteen he did that too, she tries to comfort herself. But it's empty reassurance. Because Rose knows when he looks into her eyes that he has decided to keep her.

And he can't.

They have reached the TARDIS, and they are safe for the moment. In something that has become a ritual between them he doesn't let go of her hand right away but gallantly, with a flourish places a kiss on her palm. She laughs like she did twenty-five years ago, the first time he did it. She thinks that is why he still does it, even after all this time. The Doctor has always been able to make her laugh harder than anyone else.

This time her laughter is tinged with sadness. Honestly, when she promised him forever she didn't think the her forever was going to be past forty. Not with the life they lived. Not to mention, she always thought he would have pushed her out the door by now. She never thought that'd she'd have to leave willingly. To protect him. Of course, that was why she stayed in the first place.

She wanders a bit down a corridor in the TARDIS, she can still see him standing at the console from this distance. She leans back against the cold wall of the TARDIS. His face hasn't changed, still expressive and his hair still a right mess.

After an incident on a planet where she was mistaken for his mother (her stomach still twists when she remembers it) and they were arrested for displaying affection he has started frosting his hair with grey. Or rather he has Jackie do it for him when they visit. It suits him. He looks charming, she thinks, she doesn't tell him (because he'd be even more full of himself if she did) but he knows she likes it just the same. He could do the jaborical dance of the wuhmpa-wumpas and she'd probably still think it was charming. Because it's her Doctor. She smiles.

And she walks back into the control room and mentions that it is about time for a visit to her Mum. If he sneaks a look in a mirror to check and see if his roots need coloring she doesn't mention it.

One of the unique little twists that come with being a time traveler is that while Rose just turned sixty yesterday, Jackie is only seventy-three. To the rest of London, Rose Tyler is only fifty years old. But you know what they say, spend forty years on a TARDIS that travels through space and time... and you get old. Well, maybe they don't say that. But Rose does.

She says it too remind herself why this time, once she gets off the TARDIS she will be asking the Doctor to leave her behind.

The Doctor never credited Jackie with much intelligence - Oh, he liked her well enough after a while- but as soon as Rose made eye contact with her, Jackie was out the door in a flash, making excuses about needing to get supplies for Christmas if they were staying, because of course it's Christmas, and couldn't they just call before they popped into the middle of her flat?

"Rose?" and the Doctor is looking at her with a thousand questions painted on his face. And she can't- physically can't, her throat is choked by a lump the size of space itself- tell him. So she takes his hand, and lets the last door in her mind swing open to admit him.

He was going to keep her. He wasn't going to let her leave him. She had promised forever. And he wanted it. With every fiber of his being he wanted her forever. The pain of it was threatening to drive him to his knees. The thought of not being able to sneak into bed with her for an hour of blissful sleep in her arms everynight. Not being able to run with his pink and yellow girl (because even now, that was how he still saw her). Rassilion...

She was so young. Forty years with her wasn't enough. Angry. He could be angry about this. That would be so much easier than acknowledging that he was feeling betrayed by her for growing up.

But then he looked at her. And she was weeping. And through the link one thought was repeated over and over again, so strongly that it hurt.

I'm doing this for him. Always. For him...

And he realized she was saving him again. His hearts broke, and she held him tighter.

Then she asked if he would stay for Christmas.

So he did.

They had spent their first Christmas with Charles Dickens. Rose thinks that it seems only right that they end up watching 'A Muppet's Christmas Carol' on the telly after dinner. Poetic really.

He would come back and visit. Might even stay a while when he came. And she would have her jiggery-poked mobile. She could call him if she needed him. But it wouldn't be the same, and Rose knew that. She was strong enough to handle that, but she was weak enough to take anything he could give.

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Through out the course of their time together The Doctor has only told Rose that he loved her twice. As they prepare to say goodbye he finds himself wishing he had said it more.

She has always said it to him so easily. That first time, after she stayed up all night waiting for him to come back from exploring an alien planet that didn't provide the correct atmosphere for humans. He had told her he would be gone an hour. It hadn't quite worked out that way.

It was innocent really, he had been studying the (sentient) Breathing Star Flowers that were native to the planet and become embroiled in a battle to keep them from being harvested by a group of nomadic alien crafters-called the Yutieks- and used as an ingredient in perfume. He settled both parties down after a bit. Now they even have an amicable trade partnership, exchanging fertilization services for pollen. But he had left Rose for over twenty-four hours.

He had walked through the doors of the TARDIS completely oblivious to her worry. He had started regaling her with his story as soon as he had seen her sitting at the jump seat in the control room.

Rose had marched up to him and proved that the Jackie Tyler slap was passed down genetically. He had looked at her in shock, only then seeing the bags under her eyes and acknowledging the clothes from the previous day that she still wore.

"You scared me." She said.

"Rose," He had said. Trying to build up to an apology.

She poked him in the chest. "I." Poke. "Love." Poke. "You." Poke. "Idiot."

And she grabbed the lapels of his suit and kissed him. Breaking all the careful, fragile boundaries he thought they had agreed on.

She touched his face as he tried to reply, choking on the words. She smiled at him, a tongue-to-teeth smile that made him feel giddy and terrified at the same time. "Hey," she pressed a finger to his lips. "I know."

Then she turned and started to walk away, back to her bedroom in the TARDIS.

He stared after her with wide eyes, and an open mouth.

The next morning he came into the kitchen to find her making tea. Her hair up in a messy knot, not a stitch of makeup on and she was still in her jim-jams and fluffy slippers. He thought she looked lovely.

She hadn't seen him come in. He watched her pour two cups, his with four scoops of sugar (he watched her wrinkle her nose at it in distaste, even as she stirred) something that he realized had become part of their routine. It was so domestic, and for the first time that didn't bother him. As much.

She lifted the two cups of tea and started when she saw him standing in the doorway.

"Good morning." She handed him his mug. He watched her blush when their hands touched. Gone was the confidence of the night before. In place was just Rose.

The silence had stretched long enough to be uncomfortable, and he realized he was just staring at her. Rose stared at her feet. Her eyes flicked up to his.

"Doc-"

"I love you."

Rose had dropped her tea-cup.

And that was the first time that he had said he loved her. After that though, whenever Rose said she loved him (and she said it quite often) he would just ask her "Do you know?" And she would always smile and say yes. Of course she did.