Rose,
I really am…poison. Or a sort of reverse Midas. Everything beautiful and golden and brilliant that I touch…falls apart.
I took Martha to New, New York, like I said I would…and I nearly lost her. And I lost the Face of Bo. THAT is an enigmatic floating head, let me tell you.
I took her there so that I could balance the books, and it's a good place and…
And I wanted to feel you. Go where we'd been, so I could pretend that you were there, somewhere.
And I nearly lost her. I barely know her, and I lied to her, and I nearly LOST her because of that.
I found her. She's safe. She's going home.
But I told her. I told her before about how beautiful Gallifrey is, letting her believe that it was still there, because it felt good to pretend that something, anything, ONE BLOODY THING, wasn't lost forever. But it is. And I told her. Because I owed her that.
And now I owe it to her to take her home, before I do lose her. Before she's stranded, or changed, or broken.
Do you remember meeting the Face of Bo before? That legend about the Face of Boe speaking his final secret to a traveler? It's bollocks. Because of all the lies I've told, the helpful, the harmful, the benign and terrible…this one tops them all.
He said "You are not alone."
Of all the possible secrets that a giant telepathic floating head could ever keep, that is not one I'd expect, because it can't possibly be true.
Last of the Time Lords, destroyer of everything I touch. That's me.
I am very, very alone. Martha is…distracting. And going home. And Jack…
And you. You're never, ever coming back.
The Valiant Child.
Now I know that wasn't the devil that said that. Because if we'd killed the devil, then I wouldn't be in hell.
Hell is being without you, Rose.