I actually wrote the first bit of this listening to some of the many beautiful pieces composed by Murray Gold (who is amazing, the show wouldn't be without him)

These include most of Ten's 'final moments' ones..I think 'Vale' sums it all up here :c It's meant to be a lull in all the intense active emotion.

And yes the words are Martha's, from s3.

/runs from angry mob

In the endless depth of the Time Vortex, the TARDIS lamented. She groaned deep in her heart with the agony of bearing her passengers' guilt and sorrow and anger and distrust.

The Golden Child, her little Wolf, she was scared. In the safety of her room -pink and human- she sat huddled. Her mind was a bruised mess, thoughts chasing their ragged tales. There was no ending nor beginning to them. Her Wolf clung to her Time Lord, and likewise he too to her. Yet she wanted to leave. Because there was Wolf in the Doctor. She didn't know how, or why. She just knew. A small backpack with her life's worth sat by her feet, and her gaze was faraway. But her jaw was tight with resolution. She was going to do it.

She nearly didn't feel the single lone tear that ran down her cheek as memories overtook her. Perhaps they were capable of so much more...

It wasn't fair. Wasn't fair that their lives had to be this way. Even though -from the moment she'd ran into that TARDIS...she knew it wouldn't be easy.

But...that was just the human in her. And the Doctor wasn't human.

She was going to do it.

And then there was Him. The beast now relenting, defeated.

The Doctor sat slumped on the jump seat, head in hands.

What in Rassilon's name had he done? A spasm of intense emotion rippled through him, and he choked on a gasp, folding in on himself, head bowed.

It wasn't fair.

He had hurt her. And yet he hadn't. That hadn't been him, not really. Just a twisted doppleganger. His lip curled at the thought of what he'd done.

The Doctor turned to look at his hands, flipped them over, staring. The memory of him...threatening Rose like that...using brutal force, and more strength than she of course possessed. He felt physically ill. Ill at not only what had occurred but how it could have progressed. The force in him -the mutagen- it was evidently accelerating his emotions. And with that came how he felt about Rose. He had promised to himself to deny his hearts...because if he didn't there would only be heart-wrenching loss.

If he didn't stop the mutagen...he could lose more than his dignity. He could lose Rose. In more ways than one.

He had to do it even though before all this mess...he would have dared.

The Doctor rose from his seat, scouring his face with his hands, not noticing the wetness that came away from them.

Because if he didn't dare, everyone would suffer.

And so he donned his coat, fidgeted with the lapels a little. His footsteps seemed impossibly loud as he retraced his path down the ancient corridors. The door in his vision was like a siren's call.

He stood and swallowed. This was it.

The door was already ajar, so he pushed it open. The slight creak (how come he hadn't gotten around to oiling that?) made her face flick to his. Fear warred with resolution in her eyes. They seemed ...endless.

And he felt vulnerable. Like they had swapped roles. He wasn't the high-and-mighty Time Lord for once.

"Rose."

It was pleading, funnily enough. It wasn't angry -as he expected it to be, somehow. In fact he didn't even know what it was.

"I know."

But clearly she understood. His eyes flicked away from hers, dropping the intense gaze that was making him squirm. Tension crackled between them, and her foot twitched -drawing his gaze to the small backpack by them.

Memories of her joining him after all that Christmas chaos - both of them happy and slightly nervous. New him, of course.

"So this it is, then." He tried to keep his voice flat, emotionless.

"End of the line, I guess." The Doctor flinched at that and looked away.

"You an' me, we made a good team." Hope swelled in his hearts as he looked back to her, mouth tight. He daren't say anything. Part of him wanted to scream and rant, and then crush her tightly to him.

"Yeah." Faintly he said this. And then he turned on his heel and departed, before he would do anything (if it was possible) more stupid.

So here they were. The ol' team. At the end of the line. The one place he'd thought they'd never reach. (but what about when she got older? what then?)

The TARDIS grumbled her displeasure and he sucked in a breath as she reluctantly turned her engines. The Doctor set his jaw against the jelly-like feeling deep in his stomach -sick fear and despair- and gripped the console edges as they tilted in flight.

Rose, she was still standing, not a hair out of place. That thought -the thought that she really was passenger- made him swallow past a lump in his throat. He willed the TARDIS to land sooner, feeling the backs of eyes his prick and tingle.

Then, the steady thunk as they landed and the whir as the engines powered down.

"I guess it's goodbye then." His gaze was trained resolutely on a spot just past her shoulder. The bite to his voice didn't even gauge a reaction. Not a twitch.

"S'pose it's for the best."

"Yep."

"Bye, Doctor."

And she was gone.

Rose had left him. The Doctor was still in the same position that he was in three-point-twenty-five seconds ago; arms locked onto the console, body practically paralysed. He wanted to run after her. And then it was the click of the door that broke him. Eyes wide in disbelief, with his typical eyebrow raised. He shook on the spot, pupils unfocussed. The brevity of her words finally sank in.

And somewhere, distant and tickling in the back of mind, words echoed, unfamiliar.

This is me, Getting Out.

The Doctor stayed like that for quite a long time.