Run

He'll find her.

That's what he does. The Doctor finds things and saves them, fixes them; Rose Tyler is no different. He can find her. And save her. And fix her. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow. But he will. He always does.

So in the meantime he searches the entire reality and beyond for one tiny crack between the universes, one tiny chance to see Rose Tyler and say a proper goodbye.

Easier said than done, yeah? Sure, he could just say goodbye — one word, one look, one smile, and disappear. He's mighty good at that vanishing act. To be fair, he specializes in running away, so it's not going to be too hard. He's said a million and one goodbyes to a million and one humans. Rose Tyler, another notch in his mind. Strike one down and pick up another, same old story like before. Easy.

Except it's not. Rose Tyler is not an easy girl to leave behind. And why is that?

Why is that? Does he love her? Perhaps, but not likely. Time Lords aren't built for things like love. And if they love, a human won't be on the opposite end. Usually, anyway.

He does not love Rose Tyler.

But he does.

Oh, but he does.

How can he not love the pink and yellow, pretty little thing? She's saved him, in more than one way, in more than one occasion. She made him better, infinitely better than any of his past regenerations.

But look at him now, without her. Hunched over his wailing Tardis (who misses Rose, too), sweat trailing down his face, pushing and pulling buttons and levers to find that damn crack. He's a mess. And he doesn't even know what he'll say to her, if he ever finds her.

Hello?

How are you?

Well? That's good to hear.

I can't ever see you again—

Stop. He's a bloody mess without even thinking of that.

The Doctor slides down to the floor and puts his head in between his knees and lets out a dry sob. His hair is in bunches in his hands and he's pulling himself apart, inside and out. He screams out fuck for the first time in ages because he can't, oh, he can't let himself think of that.

Not ever seeing the blonde in union jack who danced with him in a starship above war-ridden London.

Not ever seeing the girl who absorbed the time vortex in its entirety, and, subsequently, saved him and the whole universe.

Not ever seeing Rose Tyler, the human he loves, the human he'd promise to be with until the end of her life.

And how fair would it be for Rose to see him like this? Crying like the pathetic fool that he is - he of all people knew better, knew that he has shit for luck with endings for god's sake. No, Rose shouldn't see him like this. Because how would she react, then? It's worse for her, after all. He could still see the world and everything there is to it and she's just kind of... trapped in a strange place.

He draws in a shaky breath through trembling lips and thinks of the best ways to break his clever girl's heart.

"Rose Tyler, I can't see you ever again. We can't ever see each other again. I can't be with you anymore. This is the last time we'll ever...I'm sorry. Rose, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I l—"

He's about to tell the imaginary girl in front of him that he loves her, but instead the declaration comes out strangled and tortured and a sea of sobs pass through him. He whispers a million I'm sorrys and an infinite amount of I can't see you anymores in perfect rhythm but he can't let those three words glide past his tongue as easily.

He knows he loves her. And that she loves him too.

But he can't say it. Not without losing his calm. Not without erupting into dripping emotion.

And that isn't fair to her either.

So he imagines instead a Rose Tyler with arms crossed against her chest, standing on a bay with a slight winter breeze in the air and waves crashing against the shoreline. She'd be counting the stars and the ways to the Doctor's hearts. He imagines he goes up to her and takes her hand and pulls her close and murmurs into her ear a soft, "Run." And while she pulls him by the tie to slant her lips against his, he wraps his arms around her frame and burns the topography of her entirety into his memory, a map to be rediscovered on lonely nights in the Tardis. Just in case he ever forgets. When they break for air, he presses his forehead against hers and looks at her with wet eyes. His hand grabs hers, pulling it closer to his lips. He marks her fingers with a thousand kisses, the tips of his tracing her heartlines and all the things that make her brilliantly human. And while she cries, and while he cries, he'll say it. And then he'll disappear.

But he knows better than thinking so hopelessly.

So he cranks the Tardis, set for Dårlig Ulv Stranden. The place he'll find her. The goodbye won't be perfect. He won't be able touch her, hold her like he wants to, but he can talk to her. Say the things he needs to say before they part for good. Say the things he's always wanted to tell her for eons now. Share a last laugh or two.

It's all he needs to close up the gaps.

And if it means burning up a sun to say goodbye to his pink and yellow, clever, beautiful girl, then so it will.

My first Doctor Who story, so be kind please. :)