Disclaimer:

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

And, though I can wish,

I don't own Doctor Who


He hadn't been yet, not in his new body, and that knowledge filled him with pain and a sense of self-loathing. It had been over a year and the Doctor still hadn't visited. What would his previous self think? His tenth incarnation would never have waited this long and really, aside from new teeth and floppier (still not ginger hair), he was still the same person. Through his internally directed shame and anger, a small voice in his head tried to comfort him. It told him not to feel so bad, he'd just been busy, worlds to save and a regeneration to deal with, it wasn't his fault. A louder voice furiously told the other to shut up, he knew he shouldn't be making excuses, he knew the truth. The real reason he hadn't visited yet was because he was scared. He was scared that it wouldn't be the same, that it wouldn't mean as much in this body. And he was bloody terrified that he wouldn't feel the same. He knew that he owed it to her to go, he had to go for her, he always did. He'd do anything for her.

He found himself standing at the foot of the memorial in Hyde Park. He'd dropped Amy and Rory off at an Italian restaurant for a romantic meal so that he could be alone. He wasn't ready for them to know, wasn't ready to answer the questions that would undoubtedly come. Returning his thoughts to the memorial in front of him, he sought out her name. It didn't take long to find her, even with his new eyes the positioning of the letters were as familiar to him as they would have been had he visited the day before. A sad smile graced his face as he easily slipped into his old routine. He noticed, with much relief, that he felt the same as he had done in similar visits previously. He would have hated to come here and not feel the same sorrow, the same heartbreak, as his tenth incarnation had. He would have hated himself if he found that he didn't still love her.

The Doctor stared at the name carved into the marble stone. The plain font didn't do her justice. It didn't present her as different. It didn't acknowledge her sacrifice, how she risked her life to save everyone on the stupid planet. And it definitely didn't show just how special and loyal and beautiful she had been, how she always put others before herself and saw the good in everyone she came across. It wasn't fair. "I'm so sorry" he whispered. And he couldn't have been more sincere. He was sorry for not coming sooner, sorry for changing his face again, sorry for not telling Amy and Rory about her. He was sorry he hadn't been able to save her, sorry that he's ran out of time and sorry that he hurt her. Mostly, he was sorry that he had lost her.

As he stood in front of the memorial, he felt himself slip into the past to a previous lifetime. He was no longer by himself, but with her, talking to her, laughing with her, just being with her. He found himself falling for her all over again. He was able to briefly relive the days they had spent together, days that had long since passed. For the tiniest moment he was able to pretend that the memories were the present and that the reality he was living was just a horrible nightmare. The peace that this illusion brought him was abruptly shattered by Amy calling out to him. He stood quickly, wiping away a few tears that he had not noticed from his face. Then he carefully placed a bunch of red roses at the memorial before gently tracing her name with his finger. By the time he turned to face Amy and Rory, he had managed to force a cheerful smile, expertly hiding any sign of his sadness. "Off we go then, places to go and such" he stated, heading in the direction of the TARDIS. Amy and Rory lingered, curious to know what the Doctor had been doing. Glancing at the brass plaque set in the centre of the marble, they read:

In loving memory of all those who lost their lives in the Battle of Canary Warf

8th July 2006

May they rest in peace

Amy then turned her eyes to the long list of names that covered the face of the marble memorial. She allowed herself to look at the name the Doctor had touched, the name of the person he had lost.

Rose Tyler 1986-2006

Before she could even begin to wonder who this girl was, Amy was interrupted by the Doctor almost dragging her towards the TARDIS. He wouldn't look at her but, as he turned to face the memorial one last time, she swore she could see single tear making its way down his cheek and in that moment she knew that whoever Rose Tyler was she had meant a lot to the Doctor.

It was later that day, back in the TARDIS, that Amy learnt more about the mysterious girl. She had followed the Doctor down one of the numerous corridors in his ship to a door that was unfamiliar to her. She thought she might be able to guess who the room had belonged to. She lingered in the corridor as the Doctor entered the room, arguing internally as to whether or not to follow him. She knew that if she did it would be a massive invasion of privacy, but eventually her curiosity got the better of her and she tiptoed into the room.

Her first thought was that the room was similar to what she imagined a kidnap victim's would look like. The owner's possessions littered the surfaces and clothes lay where they had been dropped on the floor. The room looked exactly as it did the day its occupant left, either waiting for her return or serving as a shrine. Hanging on the walls were a number of framed photos, many of them showing the same pretty blonde and a tall man with wild brown hair. The man was wearing the same pinstripe suit her Raggedy Doctor had been wearing when they first met, but that was where the similarities ended. Not only were to two men physically different, they were in completely dissimilar mindsets. The look of pure joy and love shown by the man in the photo was the exact opposite of the faraway, haunted look that the Doctor so often wore. Amy noticed that there was a space between two of the photo frames, where another had previously been hung. She thought about searching for the missing photo, but was distracted by the figure sat on the big double bed in the middle of the room. Until this point she had all but forgotten the Doctor's presence, but she was quickly reminded when she heard a muffled sob coming from the bed. He had his back to her, but she could see the defeated slump of his shoulders and the tremors that shook through him in time with the choked out sobs. She watched for a moment as he appeared to pull himself together and the shuddering subsided.

"You shouldn't be in here" he all but whispered, voice slightly hoarse from crying. Amy noted that he didn't sound angry, just broken, defeated.

"I'm sorry" she replied. "I was just curious I guess"

He didn't respond, just sat there on the bed looking lost.

"This is her room isn't it? The girl who died" Amy asked.

"Yes this is her room, Rose's room. She's not dead though, I lost her" the Doctor responded, still not looking at her.

"What happened?"

At this point the Doctor looked up. Pain was written across his face and Amy could see him debate whether to tell her or not. On one hand, he wanted to tell Amy about his wonderful Rose and how happy she'd made him. On the other, he knew that retelling their story would be painful and a rather irrational, selfish part of him wanted to hide his Rose away from others and keep their story to themselves. In the end he decided on telling Amy the basics, about how they'd met and she saved him and made him better. He told her about their travels and how he'd watched her grown into a strong, independent beautiful young woman and about her kindness and loyalty. Then he told her about Canary Warf, how she had chosen him above everything else and how the universe tore her away from him, leaving him alone again. Finally, he told her about Bad Wolf Bay and their final goodbye. He didn't tell her about Rose's confession, nor about himself running out of time, he wasn't ready to share that quite yet. When he was finished he looked at Amy and tried to judge her reaction to what he had and hadn't said. He could see her attempt to work out what Rose had meant to him. She weighed up the little information he had given her and tried to piece together their story. It was then she saw the tie hanging over the headboard of the double bed. A knowing look crossed her face. In that moment the Doctor knew that she hadn't grasped the intensity of his relationship with Rose, hadn't understood what sh meant to him and the effect their separation had had on him. He could tell from Amy's expression that she thought she understood. She didn't.


A.N. This is my second fic and, like my first, is implied Doctor/Rose (I should really get round to writing one that actually has Rose in it). Reviews would be nice, but don't bother if you don't want to. I'm open to criticism, but please don't be too mean. Until next time :)