Writing Prompt: "When he wanted to take her picture he didn't tell her to smile, but told her 'I love you', and her smile was more beautiful"

This is my response to this quote. Quite angsty, and it was written in about 5 minutes on my phone for a Facebook Comment, so it's a little clunky in places. Also, yes, I am still working on A Rose By Any Other Name. Not to worry.

The first time was in a leather jacket in a northern accent, and he called across the frozen ocean of Women Wept to the small blonde bundled up in layers for warmth.

"Rose Tyler," he'd shouted, and she'd spun on the ice to face him with that blinding tongue touched grin of hers, letting him capture the moment in a photograph that she eventually gave to her mother. The copy he kept in his room was a well guarded secret.

The next time was Christmas day, his arm round her waist, her head on his shoulder and her mother holding the camera. His lips at her ear whispering the words, "Rose Tyler," and the snap of the shutter as she shoots him that blinding tongue touched grin in response.

The last time. Standing on a beach, but not really there. "Rose Tyler..."

There's no tongue touched smile this time, just tears, and he hopes that she knows that the words aren't just her name to him, they're the 'I love you' he can never quite bring to his lips.

The Tardis takes the photo this time, but he can't stand to see her tears. It stays in his ships archives, a memory of loss.
He sees his double lean in. Does he say the words, or does he simply say "Rose Tyler"?

He turns and walks away. He'll never know, and maybe he deserves that.