They were standing in the console room, Rose freshly showered and dressed and the Doctor dressed in his usual attire, the new pocket watch dangling proudly from his vest.
He picked up the hopper and aimed his sonic at it, setting it for its new destination. He looked up at Rose, who was biting her bottom lip nervously. He could sympathise with her. He didn't want her to leave. But he knew that she had to. She had to leave soon or else he would never let her go.
"Rose, I've set new co-ordinates for you. I need you to listen carefully."
She nodded, noting the seriousness in his tone.
"You're going to find yourself in an alternate world, one that belongs to Donna Noble, a very beloved companion. This timeline is a paradox of sorts and it's imperative that you make her turn left."
Rose frowned, but knew that this was important.
He pinched his eyes and took a deep breath and continued. "You have to make her turn left and she has to die."
Her eyes widened in horror. "What?" she asked in a low, disbelievving voice.
He opened his eyes and looked at her with such intensity. "She has to die in the alternate world in order for her get back to her normal timeline. Don't worry, she'll barely remember it."
"But I will. I'll remember having to make her die," she replied softly.
"Believe me, Rose, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary. You are the one who fixes this problem caused by that Time Beetle." He came up to her and clasped her on the shoulders, willing her to see the seriousness of the situation.
"Time Beetle?"
"Exactly how it sounds. It creates an alternate world, changing something small that can have detrimental effects."
"And that's what happened to Donna?"
He nodded. Then he took it deep breath. "It won't be easy, Rose. But this is what has to be done. And I know that you can do it."
"And you can't tell me anything more?"
He shook his head sadly. "No, but I will tell you this. After you have fixed the problem with Donna, make sure you bring your big gun. You're going to need it after that. I've programmed your hopper to take you to where you need to go after Donna."
She looked at him, those hazel eyes of hers so trusting and he felt his hearts constrict at what she was going to have to face. Even now, he could still see her on that beach, silently imploring him with tearful eyes to utter those words. And he could not say them. He could not say them because he knew she was better off with the Metacrisis. A man who could freely love her and grow old with her and give her everything he could not. Even now, that memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had given up his own happiness to ensure that she would be happy. He prayed fervently that she would be happy.
She searched his face and nodded. "Okay," she replied. She trusted him and she trusted that this had to be done.
He cupped her face and kissed her fiercely and she kissed him back just as fiercely. Both knew that this was goodbye. Their final farewell. He rested his forehead against her own and closed his eyes tightly as he crushed her against him. He did not want to let her go.
He pulled back and handed her the hopper before he lost his nerve. She silently took it and attached it to her wrist. She looked up at him and then gave him a bright grin.
"I'll see you soon, Doctor."
He smiled back sadly at her. She would see him again soon, but he would never lay eyes on her again. But he replied, "You bet."
He crossed his arms over his chest, mainly to stop fidgeting or reaching out for her. She looked at him and seemed to realise that this would be the last time she would see him, this him. Though she didn't know the circumstances.
"Goodbye, Doctor," she whispered and came up to him, placing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. She pulled away and stepped back. And then she hit the button, disappearing as his words echoed around the room – 'Stay'.
He hung his head and took a shuddering breath, his eyes pinched closed. Then he straightened up and adjusted his jacket. He turned to the console and saw the white rose laying there. He gently picked it up and music started playing in the Tardis. Ghost of a Rose by Blackmore's Night. He chuckled. Yes, she had been his ghost of a Rose.
Clara had been right, though. They all were ghosts to him. But some, some were more than that. Some left imprints in his hearts, forever engrained in his memory. And some things were worth remembering. Like her. His Ghost of a Rose.