She had piloted the TARDIS to this remote, idyllic beach on some distant planet, the name of which she couldn't recall. They'd been here before, not too long ago and it was one of her favourite places in the galaxy.

She sat on the sand, watching the tide creep in, her eyes misty with held-back tears. She wondered when she had gotten so stupid, to believe that they could both cheat death together, forever. What reason she had found to hold back, keep the three words to herself when she'd found them on the tip of her tongue.

"I love you."

Perhaps she had never truly felt the need to say them. They had existed between herself and the Doctor, unvoiced but still audible. How many times had others made the assumption, that neither of them had bothered to deny, that they were lovers? Somehow, there had never seemed time in their hectic dash through time and space to sit down and acknowledge the burgeoning attraction between them.

Perhaps that was part of the reason for their haste. Even the TARDIS was too small for a pair of ex-lovers to share comfortably. If they had succumbed to what at times had felt inevitable, and then found it was not to their liking, could she have gone back to her mundane life on planet Earth? Would he have found the sympathy to continue travelling with her, in spite of their failed relationship? They were questions she had always known the answer to, and they had been reason enough to remain silent when every fibre of her being longed to speak.

And now it was too late. The Doctor was... a stranger to her.

A tear fell from her overloaded eyes, making a dark splotch on the white sand.

"Rose?"

She flinched, having not heard him open the TARDIS door, so lost had she been in her own maudlin thoughts. "Doctor?" she replied, not bothering to turn and face him. But even not looking at him could not perpetuate the illusion that somehow he might be back as he was. His Northern accent was gone, replaced by an almost Scottish lilt. It was a pleasant voice, but not one familiar to her.

To her surprise he sat down beside her. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see his long-fingered hands resting on his knees. "What do you think?" he asked.

She turned to him at last. "What do I think of what?"

He smiled and for a moment she saw a fragment of the old Doctor. There was a similarity around the eyes, a different shade of blue and no longer as deep-set, but somehow hauntingly familiar. "The new me."

Her own smile, ghostly in comparison to his, danced around her mouth. "You're a bit pretty."

He laughed. "That sounds familiar."

She nodded, and then burst into tears.

"Rose? Rose, what's the matter?"

She buried her face in her hands and shook her head, her shoulders heaving.

He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it just as he used to, his pretty new face etched with concern. "Talk to me Rose. What's wrong?"

She let him pull her into an embrace, sobbing into a shirt she had never seen him wear before. "You're different," she answered, her reply almost unintelligible through her sobs and the fabric of his shirt.

"I know I'm different Rose. We talked about this, though. I remember it clearly." He smiled again, a soft smile that would have looked quite out of place on his old face. "I remember everything about you clearly." He paused for a moment and then felt moved to add: "Well, you and the TARDIS."

"Really?"

"Mmm. I remember..." he sighed, and shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

She pulled her head out of his chest, angrily swiping away the wetness on her cheeks. "Remember what?"

He was almost nose to nose with her, a concern in his eyes now. "I remember something that I kept meaning to tell you."

"What?"

He kissed her lips gently, a chaste kiss. She did not pull away, her eyes fluttering closed. "I love you, Rose Tyler."

When she opened her eyes, the stranger had gone. She saw only the Doctor.