She was a beam of sunlight, warm and bright, shining through the rain clouds.
She was the one who marched away with determination in the set of her jaw and the gleam of her eyes; who turned the ship inside out for another box of tissues or another bottle of cough syrup; who returned beaming with her prize clutched tightly in her hand. She was the one who ran to the library and pulled down a heavy book from the shelf, who brought it back in and read it aloud, because reading made his head ache even more than it did to begin with. She was the one who dashed to the kitchen to heat up a tin of chicken soup, who returned and fed it to him straight out of the can because he was too weary to even lift his hand, let alone eat soup.
She was a lot like chicken soup. Chicken soup was warm, and she was warm, when she brushed the side of his face with her fingers, slipped her hand into his. Chicken soup was comforting, and she was comforting, smiling and laughing and murmuring nonsense strings of words until he slipped into sleep. Chicken soup was good for people, or so it was said, and she was certainly good for him. Chicken soup was good, and she was good, better than soup, better than anything, so, so much better than he had ever done anything to deserve. But whether he deserved her or not, he had her, and it was her choice. She could have left, could have gone at any time, but she chose to stay here, with him, though he didn't deserve her.
She was fantastic. Every moment, she would come the second he said her name, no matter how tired she was. Even with shadows under her eyes, she was impossibly beautiful. He could have lived without ever seeing the light of any sun in the universe, ever again, as long as he could see her shining face every morning. In nine hundred years, in all the universe, all the times and places, from the beginning to the end and from the center to the edges in all directions, he had never met another girl like her, and he never would.
She was his sunlight shining through the clouds. She was the best remedy he could ask for, better than chicken soup, the most miraculous cure for him. She was his Rose, forever.
A/N: Aw, Rose is so sweet. :P And a lot like chicken soup. This one's my favorite so far. You have to love the Doctor when he's so helpless. Any ideas for the next one? I'm fresh out! DDD: