She sat there before him; her knees tucked neatly under her chin, staring into his troubled, contemplative face. She was thinking of how similar this moment was to so many others. How, so often, they caught each other's gaze and her breath would catch. All the sound around them would fade away and she knew, just knew, he would take her hand and pull her into the circle of his arms and fulfill all her midnight fantasies. She also knew, more surely than any of those other times, that he would look away, he would not take her hand, and that deep down he did not feel for her what she felt for him. This moment, like the others, would pass.
She sighed and decided it was probably best to leave him to his thoughts. She rose and he watched her with steady eyes, not saying a word, not moving a bit. When she looked down at him once more she smiled softly and he tried to return it, but it died away quickly. Then she leaned over slowly, placing a hand on his chest, and pressed a warm kiss to his forehead. Time stopped for a moment and The Doctor had to close his eyes to fight away the feelings that suddenly rose inside of him. All the other moments flew through his memory, all the other times where she'd looked at him like she just had and he'd had had to fight all those same feelings.
He knew Rose felt something deeper than friendship for him, he could feel it every time she looked at him, held his hand, laughed with him, fought with him. He knew all he had to do was hold out his hand and she would give herself over completely. Most of all he knew that if that happened he would take her, he would take every last bit of her, and that wasn't fair. How could he take that love and use it to satisfy his pain, to ease the ache that he'd felt since Gallifrey's death?
Yes, he cared for her; everyday he cared more and more, but Rose deserved better. If he told her how he felt and they decided to carry on as more than friends, how would it end? He knew. He knew that after so long she would look in the mirror and see what the years had brought her and then she would look at him and see how time hadn't touched him. She would start to doubt their love, doubt herself, then she'd grow bitter, until finally she would hate him. She would hate him for stealing her life from her, because all he could offer her was love, no children, no real home, no real life.
He would rather she left him right now than watch that happen. But every time these moments came it was getting harder and harder for him to resist. Even now as she pulled away and waited a few seconds he was tempted to reach out and grab her, but he managed to stay firm. She sighed once more, her heart aching for what she could not have, and unknowingly the words, "Oh Doctor," slipped from her lips in whisper. She started to leave, the hand on his chest moving slowly up to his shoulder until they were almost separated, but suddenly she froze. Just before it could completely lose contact, something had stopped her hand, something warm and firm, that seemed to clutch to her for dear life. She was afraid to look back; afraid to confirm it… he had taken her hand.
"Rose," he whispered, almost in agony. Her heart was pounding furiously against her ribcage, her blood racing through its veins, and finally she looked back. When she turned to face him again he repeated her name, "Rose," in that same heartbreaking voice. She couldn't speak; to afraid it would break whatever spell had taken hold of them. He was breathing heavy as he slowly turned his head towards her. His eyes were shut tight and she could feel his hand trembling. Then softly, so gently that she wanted to cry, he brought her hand to his cheek and pressed it there in a worshiping caress. "Rose!" he said for the third time, his voice breaking on the word and it almost made her let out a sob. She fought back the emotions that tried to erupt from her throat, but managed a breathy reply, "Doctor." He turned the palm of her hand face up and kissed it reverently. At this her legs could no longer support her and she dropped to his side, crying. She reached up and held the side of his head with her free hand, stroking his hair gently. "Rose I want…" he tried to say as he continued to press feather light kisses to her skin. "What is it Doctor?" she asked, "What do you want?" His face looked so worn, so tortured as he looked up into her eyes. "You Rose, I want you, but I have no right. I can't rob you of a real life!" Her heart soared at his words, while at the same time breaking for his struggle, his pain. Now she understood. She had always seen the passion there when they looked into each other's eyes. She'd seen the pain too, but she had never understood why he never said anything, why those feelings that were so plainly evident were never acted upon. Now she did, he didn't think he was worthy or good enough. He thought he was taking something from her. He didn't seem to realize that he was giving her everything she could ever want.
"Oh Doctor," she muttered and rose up slightly. She took her hand from his and placed it on the other side of his head, then slowly brought it against her heart. He began to cry and his arms wrapped around her waist to bring her closer. She held him and comforted him, whispering all the secrets she'd held inside until this moment. She made him understand that she was choosing this life and that not only meant choosing adventure, danger, and amazing travels, it meant choosing him as well. She needed him more than she had ever needed someone in her life and she was willing to do anything to keep him. He had changed her life and she loved it. He had stolen her heart and she did not want it back.