Photo
As he stared at the image, a wave of emotion flowed through him. A tear crept down his cheek, hidden by his glasses. He dropped the photo and it fluttered to the floor, his head resting on his hands. It was just an image, but he could tell what was going through the people's minds. The paper contained a picture of a man and a woman, both laughing. It had been taken at a festival on the planet Vy-trane. Both had had such a good time that day, making the most of the absence of danger. An inhabitant of the planet had taken the photo, Schochhlĕ – it was the only one of them together. The woman, a blonde, was bright-eyed, a big smile all over her face. What he had mistakenly thought of, until the beach, as friendship, was in fact love and affection. Her whole face shone with it, and if you looked deep enough into his eyes, you could see it there too. The Doctor blinked, letting more tears join the first. Rose was gone, and he would never have another chance to tell her that he loved her. This thought had driven him mad, and now it was too far-gone. He stood up, retrieving the photo from the floor and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, and walked into the console room of the TARDIS. He didn't care that two universes were going to crash and explode – he had given up caring when she had been taken from him. Now he would join her, be the outcome life or death. He knew that if he died first, he would wait for Rose, however long it took. At least in death he knew he would see her again, and he could not wait for that time to arrive.