Surprise! I was ahead this week so I was able to update quick. As promised, some good feels. I hope you enjoy :)

The Doctor walked to Rose's room and found that the door was slightly cracked. When he glanced inside he saw her sitting on the bed with her back towards the door. She was dressed in her pyjamas with a soft pink dressing gown wrapped around her. Her hair was wet and she was pulling a brush through it. He watched as she got it caught on a knot, pulling hard on it a few times before throwing the brush aside in frustration. She wrapped her arms around herself and started to shake and he could tell she was crying.

The Doctor walked quietly inside her room and to the bed. He sat behind her taking the brush. She looked back at him in surprise and he tried not to notice the tears on her face; tears he had helped to put there. He gently brushed the knots out of her golden hair and once it was nice and straight he set the brush down and ran his fingers through it. She closed her eyes and he felt her slowly relax as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. He tried to ignore how good she smelled or how her warmth felt against him and he tried not wonder how many moments like these he would have left with her.

He didn't know how much time passed as he ran his fingers through her hair, neither one of them speaking. She had relaxed so much she was now leaning back against him and he was almost convinced that he lulled her to sleep. He set his hands on her shoulders and was about to lay her down but she turned around to face him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I know I shouldn't have kept it a secret."

"I'm sorry that I spent even a second being upset about it," he said and he took her in a hug.

"I wasn't trying to lie to you," she said against him. "It's just…the day I got the news was the worse day of my life. I wasn't in a hurry to do that to you. But I shouldn't have kept it from you. I know that wasn't right."

"I'm not mad," he said hugging her tighter. "I'm not mad at you."

"I really was trying to spare you from the pain as long as I could."

He pulled away from her just enough to look her in the eyes. "I'm not angry at you for not telling me. I mean that. I just wish you had told me," he said gently. He placed his hand on her cheek and she looked at him with tears in her eyes. "All this time…you didn't have to hide it from me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I promise I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right time. But it never came.

"And," she said continuing, "I'm sorry you had to find out like that. I didn't want you to have to find out like that. I know that made it harder."

"You had to find out alone." It broke his heart to think of what it must have been like for her to get the news.

"That was my own fault."

"I just hope that you didn't keep from telling me because you didn't feel like you could."

She paused a moment before continuing. "I…I know how you feel about…the frailty of human life," she said choosing her words carefully. "I'll admit that it worried me a bit. But that isn't why I didn't tell you."

The Doctor felt weighed down by the realization. She had been afraid to tell him. The words shouldn't have been a surprise to him; he could feel the fear in her. And she was right about how he felt; the frailty of human life did scare him. But she had needed him and he had not been there.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry that I didn't see. I should have known. I should have noticed enough that the subject should have come up. I didn't realize that I was so focused on myself."

"No," she said shaking her head. "It's not your fault and I don't want you blaming yourself. I was trying my hardest for you not to notice. I did everything I could to act normal. I didn't want you to see." A tear rolled down her cheek and her voice was becoming more desperate; desperate for him to understand. "I love traveling with you. I love everything about it. I didn't want anything to spoil that."

He saw in her eyes that she was begging him to understand what it was that she was going through; to know what she intended rather than what had come across. "I meant what I said before. I don't understand what it is like for you. I'll never understand because I'll never experience it. I said that, not because I was mad at you but because it's just the truth."

She hung her head down but he reached to pull it back up with his hand. "You just took me by surprise. I was not prepared for that news and I didn't know how to cope. I don't understand what its like to be sick like you are. I don't understand how any of this can be happening. I don't understand how I can-"he said his voice breaking at that point. He cleared it before continuing. "But I'm going to try to understand. For you."

"Thank you," she almost whispered in response.

He took her head in both of his hands. "Does it hurt?" he hated that it had taken this long for him to ask her about it.

"It's manageable," she said trying to brush it off. But he already knew it did.

"But it does hurt?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "The medicine helps it not to be unbearable but it never stops anymore."

He placed his lips ever so softly against the top of her head. The intimate gesture even surprised himself. He could tell that it conveyed the emotions to her that he wanted it to; that he was here for her. "I…missed you," she said, her voice cracking. "I didn't like having something between us."

He pulled her in close and she wrapped her arms around him crying against his shoulder. He could feel how heavy the burden had been on her for how painfully she was crying now. He could feel her fear now and her sadness as he reached out to feel them and now that she was no longer hiding them. This was the first time she was finally able to really cry. He buried his face against her shoulder and tried to keep his own tears in as he felt hers sink into his shoulder. Her emotions were powerful and they hurt them but he wanted to feel them for all the times he hadn't. But he wouldn't cry because if he started to cry now he would be break and he might not be able to be put together again.

He wanted to strong for her now. She needed someone to be there for her now. All this time she had been there for him, she had been strong for him. But she was broken now and she needed him to be strong for her. He wanted to be the one to take care of her. He wanted to be her protector. He wanted to take this immense load off of her. She shouldn't ever have worry so much, especially not alone.

She cried for a long time and he knew he could hold her forever. Even to be with her in her pain was a delight in some strange way to him. Even though it broke his hearts he counted it a joy to be the one that got to hold her, that he was the one who could comfort her and dry her tears. It was good to have someone who could break his hearts. It reminded him that he was alive. His hearts were not hard rocks that sat in his chest. They were beating and bleeding along with her hers. They were in sync with her feelings and pain.

She cried until her sobs trickled down into pitiful gaspings for air. Finally, even those stopped and she silently rested against him trying to catch her breath.

"Are you going to take me home?" she asked quietly.

He wasn't ready to return her home yet. He had only just learned about this dreadful mess and he wasn't ready to let her go yet. He wanted to spend every minuet of her life with her. He didn't know what she wanted but if she wanted to go home then that is exactly where he would take her.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked, hoping desperately that the answer would be no.

"I'm already home," she said seriously and he was glad. "I'm not ready to go back yet. I love Mum but she'll want me to stay there; I'm just not ready for all of that yet. I'll go back when I'm…later. Is that alright?"

How could she even ask such a thing? Did she really think that he wouldn't want her to stay? He was relieved that she did not want to go home yet, that he could still claim some time with her. But it pained him to hear her ask. Didn't she understand how he felt about her at all?

She did not understand the reason for his silence and when he didn't answer fear clouded her eyes and she asked nervously again, "Is that alright?"

"Rose," he said taking her face in his hands. "Of course it is. You belong here. Always."

"Alright," she said looking relieved and thoughtful for a moment. Then she took his hand in hers and held on to it as she laid down on bed. With her eyes she asked him to stay with her.

Rose had never asked him for anything so personal though the idea had crossed her mind at times. She shouldn't be asking now. She'd be crushed if he pushed her away right now. But she was so scared and she just wanted him to hold her. She'd been alone in her fear for two months and now that he knew she didn't want to be alone anymore. Normally, she didn't push, she didn't ask, she waited on him. But she was quickly running out of time and that knowledge and her weakening body were breaking down her defenses. She was relieved when he laid down beside her on the bed pulling the covers over both of them. She buried her face against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

Rose hated that he had to know now what was going on but for this moment only she was selfishly glad. Right now, she felt safe and as if things might be alright, even though she really knew they wouldn't. She felt a little lighter at having some of the weight lifted off her shoulders even though that was because the weight now rested partly on his. She felt so good at the moment she could almost forget all of her problems. She could hear the soft pumping of his dual heartbeats, could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, and could breathe in his scent. These were the things that she thought about as she drifted, for the first time in months, happily to sleep.

Rose slept but he couldn't. She had cuddled so close to him that she was laying almost entirely on top of him. Her arms were wrapped across him, her face was nestled in the place in between his shoulder and neck. He felt her warm breath on his neck, every one of them a cherished reminder. He pulled her as close against him as he could. It would have been the perfect moment.

It had not taken her long to fall asleep and once she had she had not stirred. He could feel that for the moment the fear and pain was gone and he was glad she was resting so peacefully. But he could not sleep. He'd spent every minute just watching her.

It felt amazing to have her in his arms. He had thought before what it might be like to have her beside him just like this. He wondered what it would be like to have her there to chase away the darkness and the sadness of the night. He wished that it was not such a bitter circumstance that had finally driven them to this point. Though the moment was perfect it was tarnished by the future.

He wanted to remember everything about this moment. He buried his face into her still slightly damp hair and remembered the smell of her, a mix of lemons and vanilla. He remembered the soft and delicate feel of her. And she was warm, a warmth that chased away the deepest cold that clung to his soul. He remembered the sound of her heart beating and her soft breathing and it was the most beautiful symphony. They were reminders that, for now, she was very much alive.

She was his home. Being with her was the feeling of coming home and being at home. And for a man who had no home in the universe he treasured that so much. He may have always been running from one adventure to the next but with her he was no longer running away from anything. That was something he had not experienced since before the war. With her he belonged. With her he wasn't searching or longing for somewhere else. With her he wasn't hurting or lonely. With her he was safe and comfortable and loved. She was his only friend. She was his only family. She was his only hope, his only love. What would he be without her?

Tears stung his eyes but he would not give into them. Even in the worse sadness and circumstances he tried his hardest not to cry. Some tears slipped out at times but he never gave into them consciously. Some might assume that it was because he did not care. They might think it was that it was because he was insensitive or indifferent. The truth in fact was the very opposite. He felt pain so deeply and completely that if he were to give into it, it would completely consume his heart. He tried to hide from everyone how truly sensitive he was. He had too much pain in his heart to bear and trying to ignore it with his excited and carefree attitude was his way of survival. To cry was to acknowledge the painful emotions and to acknowledge them was to be overcome by them.

Why did the universe require him to do this? Why did it allow him the ability to change the future and yet require him not to? How many times would he be forced to do the right thing? Why did these rules always bind his hands? Hadn't he'd done enough? Hadn't he'd already done the most excruciating thing? He'd already had to stand back and watch his planet, his home, his people die in fire. He'd had to do it because it was the right thing even though it meant he was left all alone. He'd even gone on, to continue his work, even after all of that. He hadn't given up. He hadn't died. Wasn't that enough?

Why was he being forced to do this again? How could he ever stand by and watch Rose slowly slip away from him? His beautiful, good, sweet Rose; how could he ever live without her? She'd been the reason he kept going, she gave him a reason to want to live again, to not let the pain and hate of the past consume him. She was nothing but goodness to her core and she made him want to be good again. And now, for all her troubles she had to die under the Doctor's eye. After all the terrible pain he had experienced in the past she had made it all stop hurting. She had made life good again. And now, he was expected to have to let her go? To let time claim her?

He was angry. When was it ever going to be his turn? When did he ever get to be selfish and get what he wanted? When was he ever going to be allowed to be happy again? He hated time and the rules that governed it. He hated being a Time Lord and having the ability to do much more than he was allowed to do. He hated being good and following the rules instead of being selfish and doing exactly what he wanted. Why did he care about the universe? Why did he care about people and helping them? What did he ever get in return?

He got her.

Rose stirred against his chest and he felt her hug him a little tighter like even in sleep she knew him and what he needed. By choosing to not give up, to not die, to keep doing good after all the bad he had gotten her. If he had not been he never would have met her. His hearts melted off the anger that had been building there. It always did with her. A few determined tears slipped out of his eyes and down the sides of his face. Somehow, time had led them together. How could he ever be angry that their time was ending when just the short time with her had been more than he could have ever asked for?

There was great pain ahead for him. But he knew that if he could have gone back in time and have never met her in order to escape the pain that he was feeling now he would never do it. To hate everything he was, to hate the universe, would be to hate the circumstances that had brought them together and he could never do that. She was the greatest of gifts and even though he knew she was being stolen from him he wasn't mad.

He was unbearably sad. Because it wasn't his place to decide. Rose didn't belong to him. He wasn't God and it wasn't his place to act like he was. It was not his place to decide who died and when. The second he acted as if it were he was finished was as a Time Lord; he'd gone too far. But feeling her against him made him wish more than anything that it was his place to decide. Because the thought of losing her made him so sad he wasn't sure he would ever get over it.

Of course he would see her through this. It was outrageous to think that there was any other possible outcome. Maybe in the past he had left others before he had had to watch it happen. But he could never do that with Rose. He had meant what he had said once to her; he would not leave her. He'd never loved anyone enough that he thought he could stick around for the full show. But he did with her. He never thought he could handle doing what was lay before him but he had never before had Rose. He would stand by her until the end. No matter what it cost him.