This one's on The Lightning Strike (What if This Storm Ends) by The Snow Patrol. Thanks to Yani Cardaria for the suggestion! She has a a series of snippets published, y'all should check them out!

There was a storm. An ever present, constant storm, swirling in the mind of the Doctor. It was dark and angry, and full of winds and lightning. And it was the only thing that kept him going.

This human, this Rose Tyler…he didn't know why he'd brought her with him. She was a danger magnet, always in trouble. He'd only known her for a day, and already he'd had to save her four times.

She also had the strange ability to still the storm in his mind, and that scared him beyond belief.

He'd already half made up his mind to just drop her back off at home when he caught sight of her standing in front of the observation window, her burning planet casting a glow on her golden hair, making it almost look like a halo. He paused for a moment, looking at her. Almost dead four times, and yet she still hadn't asked to be taken home.

Maybe she could stay a bit longer.

They were going to die.

That much was fairly certain, give then ghostly figures that were swopping around the basement, animating corpses. He and Rose had managed to lock themselves behind a gate, but that would only protect them for so long.

He turned to glance at her as she started talking, her eyes glued to the advancing corpses. The strange light of the gelth painted in her in odd, and beautiful ways. Like a star.

As he looked at her, the storm that was his mind was quelled once more, and, given that they were about to die, he decided to enjoy it.

"I'm so glad I met you."

Rose was asleep, and the Doctor was watching her. Yes he was a dirty old man—he'd made peace with that fact twenty minutes ago. But he'd almost lost her today. Almost lost her to an enemy that should have died with the rest of its race so long ago.

Oh, how the storm had howled at the sight of it.

The storm was quiet now, as it always was in the presence of Rose.

Naïve Rose. Trusting Rose. Beautiful Rose.

She could stop the storm in his mind with one look, one touch, and Rassilon, it frightened him.

Because what if she made it go away permanently? What if he lost this storm, the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely over the loss of his people, his planet? What if this storm ended, and he didn't see Rose the same way anymore?

Without the veil of hurt, and self-loathing, what if he didn't need her in the same way as he did now? He didn't think he could bare it if he suddenly stopped craving her presence, if she only became an echo to him.

This was it. For real, this time. He'd found Rose and sent her home; she was safe. Now the Daleks had found him, and, for once, he wasn't running. He was going to die, and that was okay. He lifted his arms, eyes closed, and waited for death.

His mind was still, only a few dark clouds swirling on the edges. Keeping them at bay, as clear as if she were really there, was Rose.

She was terrible. She was glorious. She was burning. She was Rose.

He didn't know what was happening, how it could be possible, but Rose was before him, surrounded by swirling golden power. The Doctor stared at her in disbelief, and knew he could happily spend the rest of his life just looking at her. At the same time, he wished to never see anything as terribly beautiful again.

Rose. His Rose. She was going to die for him. Rose, who had saved him from the storm, was going to die.

And the storm would take him completely this time.

Rose was unconscious, but alive. He paused to brush some hair from her face, and smiled. This was the Rose he needed, that he loved. So human, so full of gentleness. He would happily spend the rest of his days in her presence.

The storm was still.

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