a/n: a dark bit of tentooxrose inspired directly by the ending to the last of us (which, for the record, was effing brilliant). if you're looking to avoid spoilers for the game, don't read this. title comes from the game's soundtrack, which is also brilliant.

vanishing grace

You sit in the dark, your shoulder against hers, bum going numb from being parked on the hard floor. The room is silent other than the faint hum of the zeppelin engines, and you can still smell the sea, the scent of salt lingering in your clothes.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Rose asks, voice small.

You've been waiting for that question since the moment the TARDIS dematerialized from the beach.

No. No he's not. "He's got the TARDIS," you say instead.

"And Donna will look after him. Right?"

You take her hand, entwine your fingers with hers. You tell yourself you're doing this for her, even though you know full well that's a lie.

"Right."

You feel vaguely ill, but later that night you're gasping her name and all sickness is forgotten.

You find her leaning against the balcony railing, wearing your shirt and staring up at the stars. She turns at the sound of your approach, and greets you with a smile that gives off so much warmth and so much love the solitary heart in your chest stutters in awe.

"Hello," she says.

You can't help but grin. "Hello."

She returns her gaze to the night sky, and you come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her and resting your chin on the top of her head.

"Everything alright?" you ask, because it's three in the morning and normally at this time she's snoring softly in bed, dead to the world.

"Mhm," she hums. "Just wonderin' what the other you is up to. What sorta crazy adventures you're having, or if Donna's givin' you an earful because you've landed her in an alien jail somewhere."

You make a noncommittal noise and concentrate very hard on not hugging her too tightly. You're fairly certain that by this point you've gone mad with loneliness and regret and done something terrible because there's no one left to stop you.

You're also fairly certain that if Rose knew any of this she would immediately take off to stop you, the impossibility of inter-dimensional travel be damned.

"Sounds like Donna," you say, even though you know that Donna is not and never will be anywhere alien ever again. Rose huffs a laugh, and you do your best to ignore the guilt that wiggles in your gut.

You just want her to be safe. To be happy. To be happy with you.

"C'mon, Dame Rose." You lift her off her feet and away from the balcony. She shrieks, giggling. "There's adventures of our own to be had inside."

"That is the cheesiest line I have ever heard," Rose laughs, but judging by the way she kisses you she doesn't seem to mind.

"She lied to him."

You fiddle with the console controls, acting lost in the task, hoping Rose will let it go.

"Twenty years of marriage and she'd been lying to him the entire time. How could she do that?"

"She just wanted him to be happy," you reply, when it becomes clear Rose is expecting some sort of response. Rose shakes her head, leans against one of the struts with her arms crossed over her chest.

"It's not right, though! You can't - you can't build a relationship on a lie like that. It's dishonest, and wrong, and they always find out in the end anyways."

"People lie in relationships all the time."

"Little lies, white lies, sure. Not 'by the way you were responsible for your brother's death' lies."

You abandon all pretense of studying the console. "But what did telling him accomplish? Oh, fantastic, now he gets to spend the rest of his life plagued with guilt and regret."

"He had a right to know," Rose fires back, resolute. "And a right not to be lied to by someone who claimed to love him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask, and you know you're yelling but you can't help it. "That because she lied she didn't truly love him? That's why she lied in the first place!"

"It's wrong, Doctor," Rose repeats. "It just is. Would you do that to me?"

You stare at her, and in the drawn out silence that follows something shifts in Rose's eyes.

"No," you say, far too late. "Not to you. Never to you."

Rose's arms have uncrossed; they hang limply by her sides. She's looking at you the same way she did when you regenerated, with doubt and suspicion and just a bit of heartbreak.

"Promise me, Doctor?" she asks quietly. "Promise me you won't ever lie like that to me."

You step slowly forward, until you're close enough to take her face in your hands, and look her straight in the eyes.

"I promise."