A/N: Okay, so here we are, another chapter. I'd apologise for the... angst, I guess... except that it seems to be my forte. Needless to say, I was up the best part of the night writing (coughthreeinthemorningcough) though, granted, I was reading too. Anyway, thanks to the lovely, wonderful reviewers who make me feel so fuzzy :D rabid-x-llamas, TheAngelOfSilence, Luna Lovegood5, SnarkyCoffee... yeah yeah, you know the drill. Love you guys ;3 I'm also astounded to look at the "alert list" for this story. And touched. Anyway. Onwards!
Chapter
IX - Heart
"Past life?" the Doctor echoed, crossing his arms.
"That's what I said," Avoria confirmed, glancing to him with slight worry. The Doctor was pacing a little, a frown deep in his forehead, as if he couldn't quite believe it.
"So you're telling me her past soul just happens to be wandering around in France as well as the real her?"
"You could think of it as some sort of regeneration if it would make it easier," she replied softly. The Doctor stopped pacing and looked to Avoria with fierceness in his blue eyes.
"I could and it doesn't," he stated a little coldly. "But it's big trouble. If Rose so much as talks to her past self, we could be in another great big time paradox all over again."
"Another?"
"Long story," he added quickly. "Look, I know it's a lot to ask, especially being away from your home planet. But can you just tell me if..."
The Doctor trailed off, not being able to find the words to complete his sentence. It was a huge thing to ask, he suspected. But Avoria smiled at him kindly.
"It would be the least I can do. And as much danger as she'll be in, I can tell you she will not end up coming into contact with her past self. It will be a close call at one point, however."
The Doctor's head snapped up as if he were a dog who had just heard his owner call him. "Danger? What danger?"
Avoria hesitated, her breath catching.
"What danger?" the Doctor pressed, taking a step towards her. She backed off with a nervousness he hadn't seen in a long while. The Doctor's face softened, but he didn't take his eyes off her. "I'm not going to hurt you. You know that. It's just... if Moreaux gets his hands on her, I swear I'll – "
"He won't," the woman cut across, her eyebrows raised in such a way to tell him that he should know it. "I can't tell you too much; you of all people should know, Doctor. The danger of revealing the future can have drastic consequences."
He considered her for a moment, then sighed and sat down on the sofa again, his hands clasped in between his knees.
"Yeah, I know," he admitted a little dejectedly. "It's just, I hate the thought of anything happening to her."
Avoria hid a smile. "And yet you still bring her on these voyages?"
The Doctor raised his head and looked to the woman with sincerity. "She chooses to come with me. I couldn't stop her if I tried."
"Or if you wanted to." Avoria raised a knowing eyebrow, before crouching down in front of the Doctor and putting her hands gently on his knees. He watched her until their eyes were level. Her eyes searched his and for a moment, the two seemed stuck like that, their gazes locked.
"You care for her," Avoria said softly at last. The Doctor felt his gaze intensify, despite the fact that he didn't mean it to.
"Yeah, I do."
"And you're worried that you care more about her than you should."
He stood suddenly, and Avoria dropped her hands.
"I'm sorry," she began, keeping her gaze forward as he walked behind her. "I shouldn't have – "
"I need to get back to her," the Doctor said bluntly, as if she hadn't spoken in the first place. Avoria stood and turned, in one, elegant motion. She put her head on one side, ever so slightly. He held her gaze for a moment, before looking away and heading towards the TARDIS door.
"Doctor, Rose is safe," Avoria found herself saying. He paused and turned, his eyes very definite in his answer.
"But she isn't with me."
"Moreaux won't lay a finger on her unless I tell him to," she replied before she could stop herself. The Doctor's eyes flashed.
"You said that before. I'm guessing that Ebony has something to do with this? She's the one who's been giving Moreaux all the information he needs, I bet. Couldn't handle the world by herself so tricked a silly little ape into doing what she wants. Planting the ideas in his head. And that'll be why he knew so much about me. And how he got a hold of that device. Lucky he didn't know how to use it; I could've been killed."
Avoria nodded slowly. "I couldn't stop her," she said sadly. But the Doctor's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Ebony doesn't have the power to See, Avoria. Out of the two of you, only you have that. I'm not stupid; it's why you're still alive, probably. Which means that she used your power to find out about me. To tell Moreaux. To put Rose in danger."
She blinked back at the Doctor with a fresh strain of tears in her eyes.
"I just... wasn't strong enough..."
The Doctor nodded slowly and then, perhaps against his better judgement, stepped over to her. He softened his face and reached for her hand.
"You want to go home, don't you?" he asked softly, searching the contours of her face with his eyes. She met his gaze and then nodded. He gave a small smile with the corner of his mouth.
"I just want to get away from here. Doctor, I know how you care for Rose. But if I go out there again, there's no promise that I'll make it back to your TARDIS. I am weakened out there and Ebony may take extra precautions on making sure I do not surface again if she gets the chance. This is my last chance at freedom."
The Doctor stood for a moment, thinking.
"You're sure Rose will be safe? I could leave you here in the TARDIS while I go and find her – "
"Doctor..." Avoria answered slowly, her eyes pleading. "If you leave me, Ebony may surface again anyway. And then I would be alone, as her, in your TARDIS. You have my word that no harm will come to Rose. Moreaux doesn't do anything I – Ebony – doesn't tell him to."
At last, the Doctor found himself nodding gravely. Despite the current mood he was feeling, his face cracked into a large, disarming grin.
"Well then, who am I to deny a lady her freedom?" he asked cheerily, bounding over to the controls. He wasn't sure which part of him was acting; the part that wanted adventure, the part that wanted to get back before Rose noticed his absence or the part that, a very very long time ago, felt for the woman in front of him what he felt for Rose now. Whichever way it was, he pulled a few levers, ran to the other side of the controls and pulled a few more levers and then fiddled with some switches, before pushing a final button. He looked up to Avoria before he pushed it.
"Better hold on to something," he advised. She smiled at him and grabbed at the railing that ran the perimeter of the TARDIS. He grinned his manic grin at her and slammed his hand down hard on the button. The TARDIS lurched and shook the pair about as it began its journey through the stars. The Doctor kept his eyes concentrated on the controls in front of him, his face knotted into a firm frown. After a few more jumps, to which he expertly avoided falling over, the TARDIS came to a juddering halt. Avoria, who had been clinging desperately to the railing for fear of losing her balance, brought her gaze to meet the Doctor's. Her eyes were shining.
"Are we here?" she asked timidly. The Doctor gave a nod and a smile.
"Lithereal," he confirmed with a grin. "Just as you left it. Probably. Can't guarantee I've got you back to exactly the same time though –"
"It's doesn't matter," Avoria cut across him and ran to the Time Lord, wrapping her arms around his neck. He stood for a moment, quite bewildered and then, very slowly, brought his arms around her protectively. "You brought me home," she whispered into his neck, and the Doctor wasn't sure if he was proud or sad to hear tears in her voice.
He hugged her for a second longer, and then held her away from him at arm's length.
"Go on," he urged, nodding towards the door. "Your family will be waiting, I expect."
They stood, their hands clasped together and admiration on each of their faces. Avoria gave a small smile, a sad one, then, suddenly, leaned in to whisper in the Doctor's ear.
"I'm sorry..."
He brought his head back, looking at her confused. He was about to ask what for when, suddenly, the bright, funny, light, clever, intelligent, beautiful woman in front of him changed. Just like that. Like the snap of a pair of fingers. Suddenly, he was holding the hands of a thin woman, dressed in black, with black, curly hair that fell around below her shoulders in a thick frame. Hollow, black eyes stared at him, as well as skin as white as the purest snow. Her lips were thin and cruel, her cheeks high and sneering. A female Moreaux if ever there was one, the Doctor thought. He dropped her hands as if she'd stung in him.
"You!" he spat with venom, his eyes narrowing. "Send her back!"
She laughed, hollowly, as if she had been taught how to laugh rather than actually experiencing it.
"You are a bigger fool than I thought, Doctor, if you thought you were dealing with Avoria. It is so easy to manipulate her, especially as she has become so weak. You were right about one thing. That world did feed me. And now, thanks to you, I have strength enough to take revenge on the people who would never welcome me."
"What do you think you'll find when you get out there?" the Doctor demanded desperately, beginning to make his way to block the woman from leaving the TARDIS. "Open arms? A nice, lovely place to wreak revenge? You won't get away with it, Ebony."
Ebony stopped and looked at the Time Lord for a moment, disgust clear on her face. Then, with one, simple, wave of her arm she cast the Doctor backwards into the metallic wall of his TARDIS. The pain he felt shoot through him was immense, as if the impact were reverberating around inside him. He looked to her, stony faced and angry. It was heart-breakingly surprisingly to realise the difference between the two women who shared the same consciousness; it was also heart breaking to recognise their similarities.
"You are no match to me, Time Lord," Ebony spat at him, her dark eyes narrowing with hatred. "You may have taught that little wretch to subdue me once before, but I am strong now, and every day she gets weaker. She takes another breath before her death, whilst I live on."
The Doctor couldn't stand it. He made to bar Ebony from the door, anything to stop her from leaving the TARDIS. Because he knew that if she went out there, it would mean the end for more than just Avoria's planet. It would be the end of her people, the end of their future, their past. It would be the end of him and his TARDIS. And it would be the end of Rose, too. He had been a fool to trust that she would be safe if he left her alone. And, as much as he would like to blame the enticing, convincing eyes of Avoria that had driven him to it, part of him had just not wanted to accept responsibility for her safety. It was a part of him he hated. So very much.
However, he found that when he went to move, he couldn't. That old not-being-able-to-move-trick again, he supposed. Fantastic.
Ebony spared him a pleased but sadistic smile.
"It's not magic," she explained, for a moment. "Moreaux believes it is. But it's just furthered technology to do with the workings of the brain and the molecular structure of the biomass of thought. Combined with my extensive knowledge, I can create a powerful force over others."
Then, as if suddenly realising who she was speaking to, she rounded on her heel and put a hand lightly on the TARDIS door. For a second, Ebony turned back to the Doctor, who stood there like a stupid little child.
"Thank you, Doctor," she said harshly, with malevolence dancing in her dark eyes. "You have helped me imprison this planet. Kill the one you love. Sacrifice yourself. How does it feel?"
He caught her eye, and pulled a massive grin. "Fantastic."
She gave him an odd, unbelieving look, before shrugging and putting it down to Time Lord ways. Ebony pushed against the TARDIS door gleefully, her plan already forming perfectly in her mind. It didn't budge. Taking a breath, she pushed again, a little harder this time.
"What...?" she asked, astounded. But the Doctor had the answer. And she was surprised to hear footsteps coming towards her. She turned to see him only a few feet away from her, a smug grin on his wide face. "How did you...?"
"This is my TARDIS," he shrugged. "If you think some hocus-pocus 'molecular biomass technology' is going to be controlling me any time soon, you may as well jump out into time and space right now. Not a chance. I've fought scarier things than you in my sleep. You're just a lost little girl who can't accept that she doesn't belong here. And as for the door..."
He brought his hand out of the pocket, holding up a silver key dangling on a chain. "Looking for this?" he asked brightly with a grin. The look on Ebony's face was almost enough to make him laugh. It was a mixture of complete rage and utter humiliation. "TARDIS key," he explained brightly, pocketing it with a grin. "Never leave home without one."
"Give it to me," she demanded, advancing towards him with venom. The Doctor cocked his eyebrow. He leant his head forward, very slowly.
"No."
"What?"
"No," he shrugged, with a laugh. "I told you. No more mind controlling for you. This is my game, we play my rules."
"But..."
The Doctor laughed and rolled his eyes, before reaching a hand out to take Ebony's wrist. She fought against his grip, but between a woman with no power and the Lord of Time, there was really no question of who won out in the strength department.
"Tell you what," he said gleefully, pulling her down into the depths of the TARDIS corridors. He knew that somewhere around here he had a room he could just lock her in to. Just for now; keep her out of trouble. "You can stop dictating Avoria's life – and mine, come to that – and sit and think about how you'd like me to kill you. Now, as I've said before, I have a friend to save and, right about now, she'll be needing my help. So be a good little villain and stay in your room."
The TARDIS graciously found him one of the spare rooms and he pushed her into it, Ebony screeching the entire time. He was glad to have some rest for his ears when the door slid shut tightly behind him. He opened a small panel in the door and saw Ebony glower out at him.
"One more thing," he added, jerking his head back towards the TARDIS control room. "To open that door; it's pull, not push."
Flashing her one of his amazing grins, he slammed the panel shut and made his way, albeit a little hurriedly, back to the controls and, more importantly, back to his Rose.
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He wouldn't tell anyone – probably not even Rose herself when he got her out of this mess – that he hadn't really taken the TARDIS anywhere. Well, not to Lithereal, in the least. More like, a nice, deserted planet on the edge of one of the loneliest solar systems in the universe. He would have left Ebony there, too, if it hadn't have been for Avoria. She was another one who needed his help. He had known that Avoria wasn't herself and he had as good as guessed that Ebony was looking for a way back home. He couldn't have challenged her until he'd tricked her into coming out in the open. Close call, he thought, as he fiddled with the coordinates of the controls.
For the moment, all there was was Rose and as the TARDIS groaned into action again as he set the coordinates, the Doctor could not help feeling just a little bit smug. Collect Rose, save the day, home in time for tea. He grinned as he yanked down on a lever, and the TARDIS lurched into oblivion.
Of course, the grin more than subsided when his luck ran out and he pulled another one of his 'right place, wrong time' disasters. He realised, when he flung the doors of the TARDIS open, first of all, that he was not on top of a hill but, in fact, in the middle of a square. A busy square. Next to a water fountain with two naked humans on it. Fantastic. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, too; had he even made the right date, for pity's sake? Was this the Saint-Émilion he had left in supposed peace? Thankfully, the people around for the moment seemed to be marketplace folk, packing up to go home. They'd be gone soon. However, the passers by had stopped what they were doing and were stood, dumb-struck, at the 1960s English police box in the middle of their 1920s French square. Of course none of them knew it was a 1960s English police box, but it was still just as dangerous. The Doctor slammed the door behind him and stood, feeling quite uncomfortable, as all eyes watched him. This certainly didn't bode well for his world-saving-Rose-rescuing-home-in-time-for-tea plan. He frowned.
Approaching the nearest person her could reach, he beamed at them and relaxed his shoulders. "Hello. Could you tell me the date?"
"I..." it was a young woman with wide eyes, clutching at a wheelbarrow of what looked like scarves. He glanced down to them and noticed a bright pink affair, silk he reckoned, and knew in a flash that Rose would like it. An apology, maybe, for being such an idiot. Forgetting the date for the time being, he looked back to the timid, mousy haired woman.
"How much for that scarf?" he asked brightly. The woman's eyes widened as she followed the direction of his finger.
"For you, sir, free," she said hurriedly, bending to pick it up and hand it to him.
"Oh," he replied, a little surprised, taking the fabric from her. The material was soft in between his fingers. Then he grinned again. "That's very nice of you..." he looked at her intently, gesturing with his hand.
"Amélie."
"Right. Amélie, hello. I'm the Doctor. Is today the twelfth? Of June? 1924?"
He almost held his breath in anticipation and was relieved to see the woman nod. He grinned at her. "Fantastic! Maybe I'm not too late to save her after all. She'd kill me if I was!"
Laughing, the Doctor was about to move off, when he felt the young woman pull at his arm. Graciously, he looked down to her with a smile.
"Save who?" she asked inquisitively, but he could also recognise something else in her voice, a great wisdom.
"My friend," he smiled. "My friend Rose. That's who the scarf is for."
Amélie's eyes widened.
"There was a Rose at my stall earlier today, Doctor. She got led away by a severe looking woman."
He became instantly excitable, the grin spreading from his mouth to his eyes.
"Oh?" he asked. "Do you know where they went?"
"I… I have seen that woman many times, Doctor. She leads people away. There is a house, a mansion, on the edge of town. That way." She pointed. "I believe that is where she took your Rose."
He gave her a pleased nod of the head and took Amélie's hand, squeezing it.
"You may have just saved her life," he said kindly. "And mine, if you don't tell her I got a little… lost. I don't fancy being on the end of one of Rose's arguments. Again. Worse than her mother, she is!"
Amélie nodded a little sheepishly; she had no idea what he was talking about. The Doctor gave her a manic grin.
"Cheerio then," he said gleefully, starting at a jog away from the square. "And thanks for the scarf!" he called back, laughing.
He shook his head as he jogged; again, that word had leaked out of his mouth before his brain could tell him otherwise. It was becoming quite the habit, despite the fact that it made him sound like he was born in the 1950s. Which, he knew, he quite clearly wasn't. Perhaps it was this era. He clutched at the scarf desperately as he ran. Thank Gallifrey the woman was clever and knew of his Rose. Now he could save her, apologise for being a complete and utter pratt, and then they'd be on their way. It was a good feeling and, as he ran to the mansion, his spirits were lifting with every step. Such was the joy of being a hero.
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Rose's scream echoed around the dreary room. Moreaux was stood in the chamber with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed. Standing by the wheel on the wall was a guard who, whenever Moreaux would snap his fingers, turned it that little bit more.
It had been all right at first. Sure, it had hurt a little, having the strain on her muscles as she was forced into unnatural stretching, but it wasn't too bad. But then she had reached her limit and now, with the guard turning the wheel a little bit more, Rose could practically feel her entire body being wrench apart from the inside out. Her ligaments were being torn away from each other, her muscles tearing, her bones breaking. The pain was so much... too much... and it was everywhere. There wasn't an inch of her that didn't cry out for the release of death. She was beyond tears. After the final scream, she was beyond screaming too. It was just too much; even breathing hurt. Taking those short, tiny breaths to keep the oxygen flowing to her brain was enough to make her want to give up. The pain tore through her like a thousand million needles trying to force their way out of her from the inside.
He left me.
The thought itself almost hurt more than her torture.
He left me.
Rose barely heard Moreaux's voice drift through the air, working its way through her suffocating pain. She was drowning in it, trying so hard to keep herself alive. But why? What was the point?
"What do you know of the Doctor's plans?"
That question, again. How many times had he asked it?
"He – has – no – plans," she panted bitterly and breathlessly, her body feeling like it would snap at any moment. The cold realisation hit her that it was true: he really didn't have any plans. Ever. He just ran in with a makeshift idea that he was making up as he went along, and that was it. He had no plans. Not to save her.
He left me.
"Liar!" Moreaux screeched. He clicked his fingers. The pain intensified, even though Rose couldn't see how it was possible. Much more of this and she would literally be torn in two. She could barely feel the sickness her stomach or the dizziness in her head. Breathing hurt too much... she had to hold her breath.
"Why did he come here? What did he want with Ebony?"
He left me.
"I – don't – know," Rose wailed, letting her breath out. It all hurt. So much pain. So much hurting, and she couldn't even end it. She wanted it to, desperately. She would have given anything to die, right now, just like that. And death was not something Rose Tyler often wished for. But her body and heart was broken and now she had nothing. No one. She was alone.
Moreaux narrowed his eyes. She was a tough nut to crack; he'd give her that. He couldn't just keep up this charade and kill her – he needed answers. Ebony had not spoken to him in a very long while, and he had become worried that her absence was something to do with the Doctor. He must have tricked her. And then the blood in him boiled. Well, if the Doctor could take his mentor, then he could take his Rose. It would be just another corpse to add to the pile after all, and he would find his answers from somewhere. Play on, he mused with amusement, his grin spreading.
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The Doctor didn't have to hear Rose's scream to know that she was in danger. His hearts plummeted and raced at the same time, his stomach turning somersaults somewhere in his throat. He ran up the gravel path to the door, his feet crunching on the stones; he could almost feel them crush together under his weight. He brought out the sonic screwdriver and held it to the lock on the door, and it buzzed with protest as it worked.
"Come on!" he urged angrily, giving the door a kick of frustration. It swung open. Blinking with shock for just a moment, he shrugged and hurtled into the house.
Instantly, he was greeted by two pairs of strong, relentless hands. The guards. They grabbed at his shoulders, his arms, anything to stop him from getting through. But enough was enough, the Doctor decided. When Rose was in danger, that was it. Nothing and no one would get in the way. He rounded on them with a new found strength that had risen up from deep within him. He felt it surge to every muscle in his body, and the beating of his hearts rose with his rage. His eyes glinted a steely grey as he rounded on the two guards in front of him.
"I am the last Time Lord, and I release you from your imprisonment!" he shouted at the top of his voice, his eyes flashing. He wasn't sure if it would work; he didn't care. The guards, for a moment, blinked back at him stupidly and their grip loosened. It was all he needed. With sheer desperation, he broke out of their grip and headed for the stairs that led down to, he presumed, the dungeons. Rose's scream still echoed in his mind and the guilt washed through him like a tsunami, breaking everything in its wake. And on he ran, his feet pounding at the floor, the blood pounding in his ears. Save her, save her, save her. That was all. Of course she hadn't've been safe. Not with Moreaux around. And he'd been a stupid, idiotic daft little man to believe that she was. But the time for regret would be later, he scolded, as his shoes pounded down the stairs.
He pushed open a door and knew instantly that this was the dungeon. The smell that rushed up to greet him was rank and stale, making him feel sick to the stomach. It had been a long time since he had smelled death like this. The corridor was freezing as he ran, his feet nearly giving way under his desperate urge to find her. He came to a door. An open door. The Doctor skidded to a halt, his face contorted with horror, shame, grief and guilt. Rose, on a torture mechanism. Moreaux, gleaming over her empty shell of a body. The rage in him came to a climax as his hearts broke at what he'd done. And, without a first, second or third thought, he burst into the room.
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There had been so many things wrong with his plan. One, he had been cocky, and arrogant, and confident, and had therefore locked Ebony into a room without much care. As soon as the TARDIS landed back in France, the door had slid open with the jolt. And she had wandered out, a definite pace in her step. Carefully, she had watched as the Doctor had dashed off towards the mansion. And carefully, picking her steps cautiously and laughing at his stupidity, she followed him with a swift, but subtle, walk.
Two, he had been stupid enough to pause and buy a scarf. A scarf, for pity's sake, when Rose's life was in danger. He had tucked the delicate fabric into his pocket carefully, expecting it to be a surprise when he got to her. Of course, right now, he would happily trade the scarf for her life.
Three, he wasn't thinking. At all. No plan, just pure emotion rushing through him. Although, as things went, this was probably more of a help than a hindrance.
He slammed into the room, his breath in broken pants. He had eyes only for the woman on the torture device, his eyes filling with sorrowful tears at his own stupid mistake.
Moreaux looked at him for a moment, quite startled, the rest of his question to the girl still hanging in the air. He smiled.
"Doctor, how nice of you to j– "
Smack. He didn't even get the rest of his welcoming, drawling sentence out as the Doctor's balled fist came up to meet his jaw line. Moreaux stumbled with the shock and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.
"Enough games," the Doctor spat and made for the wheel on the wall; Rose's release. He looked up into the sombre face of the guard, his features twisted into a look of hate. "If you've any compassion left in that pathetic little body of yours, you'll let me save her!" he yelled, his eyes blazing.
Something in the guard stirred. An old part of his soul, the part that Rose had nearly touched when she had spoken with him and begged him to let her go. It expanded and spread and he was allowed just a few moments of freedom. He took his hands away from the wheel, which spun back on itself with the release. The supports of the desk loosened and the Doctor gave the man a silent thank you. There was something in humanity left, at least. But there was no time for thank yous now. The Doctor ran to the table and the still figure. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled at an unnatural angle. Desperately, he unstrapped the leather at her ankles and wrists. Damn – how tight had those bastards pulled the restraints?
With nothing left supporting her, Rose's body sank into the arms of the Doctor. He lowered her to the floor desperately, tears stinging at his blue eyes. He couldn't stop his hand from reaching to cup her face.
"Rose," he said desperately, searching her face for any signs of life. A flicker of an eyelid. A catch of breath. Anything. "Rose!"
He held her broken body to him, bringing her head up to his shoulder. He rocked her in his arms gently, one hand at her head, the other spread on her back.
"I'm sorry," he cried into her mass of blonde hair. He could practically feel the warmth leaving her body with every passing moment; moments that he could not stop. "Rose, I'm so sorry. This never... I..."
The tears spilled out down his cheeks, searing his flesh with raw despair. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to force them back. She wasn't gone. She couldn't be gone. She was his Rose, his lively, confident, funny, intelligent Rose. He couldn't let her die, not now. Not in his arms. Not after everything that had happened. It just wasn't possible.
He pulled back slightly, passing his hand desperately over her face, brushing the hair from her eyes. Her body was completely limp in his arms.
And then, a miracle happened. Her eyes flickered. He saw it. They blinked, though they were closed. His hearts leapt.
"Rose!" he shouted, overjoyed at that single, tiny motion. "Rose, stay with me. Don't let go. It's not your time yet. I have so much to show you... don't give up. Not now. Not ever."
He was still crying. He had never cried before; not like this. His voice was weak and broken, his panting breaking his speech. But he kept her to him, desperately. He brought his head forward and kissed her forehead desperately, straining to hold on to whatever warmth was left in her body. She felt her muscles tense beneath his hold. Her own life.
He brought his head back again, his thumb running over her cheek desperately. "Rose?" he whispered. He barely dared to hope. He didn't deserve it, he knew. But she did. She deserved to live, always.
Her eyes didn't open. But a small breath choked out of her weak body. Slowly, she parted her lips and uttered one word. A hushed word, that he had to strain his ears to hear.
"Doctor..."
A miserable grin spread across his face.
"I'm here," he said, laughing with grief. The tears he was crying were spilling onto her flesh. He cradled her against his chest again, not wanting to let her go. "I'm always here. I'll never ever leave you. Not ever."
But she didn't hear his promise. The fingertips she was using to hold on to the cliff of life suddenly gave way. Just like that. She couldn't hold on any more. The pain was still with her. Her bones were broken, weakened. And, in the last Time Lord's arms, Rose Tyler slipped out of existence. It had not been the torture device that had killed her. Physically, it had torn her body so far away from itself that it was almost impossible to repair. Almost. But not entirely. The Doctor could and would have found a way to heal her, to bring her back. But he couldn't. Because she'd gone. What had killed her was the will to let go. Not to hang on. To give up.
He left me.
Rose Tyler, the girl who had been to the end of the world and back, had died of a broken heart.
