Please review. Please, please, please!
Again I do not own a thing. Not even a screw on the TARDIS. And I am rather depressed about it!
A Week Later...
Rose watched from the open doorway as he lay shaking under the thin covers of his huge, mahogany bed. A thin film of sweat shone on his precious face, his breathing was shallow and ragged, whilst convulsions of pain and exhaustion shook his entire body. Bloody bandages swathed his chest, scarlet against the deathly white of his flesh. She could hardly bear to look at him, it killed her inside to see him in such extreme pain and there was not a thing she could do. He was dying. The last of his race. Why he couldn't regenerate she didn't know, maybe he didn't want to. Instead he was slumped in bed, shivering and suffering whilst al she could do was watch. Watch the man she loved more than anything die. It broke her already broken heart, she wanted to scream and cry. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. She wanted to plant her lips on his and kiss him long and deep in an attempt to draw some of his pain into her. Yet she could not. She had to act professional. Stick to her role of the devoted, compassionate but unattached, unknown nursemaid. It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do before. At that moment he was unconscious, most of the time he was and she was very careful not to be around him when he was awake. Though she doubted he'd recognise her through his pain and the slight changes in her appearance. But she could not risk hurting him more, could not risk being thrown out by the house owners before he passed on. Anyway what could she tell him? So standing there silent and still, Rose gazed at the man who had stolen her heart. And despite all her attempts at hiding she wished he would see her and remember and say her name.
Meanwhile in his head images and scenes flashed through the Doctor's brain like 'This is Your Life!' He recognised the first one as that night at Christmas, when he had wriggled his newly grown fingers at her and smiled like a mad thing. With a slight hesitation and a scared smirk she had taken his hand and they had both held on for dear life, pulling each other close as ash fell about them in a blizzard. He recalled the way in which the colours had come alive when she was that close, the way he had longed to envelope her in his arms and kiss her senseless. His tenth form had loved her just as much as his ninth.
Suddenly the innocent joy of that scene vanished and was replaced by the picture of her stood alone on that windswept beach in Norway. Their farewell. Tears rolled down her cold-pinched cheeks as she slowly broke down before him. He had stood there like a chunk of rock, only giving into his emotions when he was left alone. And the worst part. He had never told her...And now he never would. A haze of black obscured his recollection and gave way to yet another vision of her.
Lying there on that windy, fragrant meadow of apple grass. The way she had smiled and her ringing laughter. The sunlight had caught on her face and made her glow; she was so beautiful, so happy. They lay there close, contented in each others presence, so in love it had been hard to breath. Or at least it had been for him. At that moment he could nearly feel her beside him; so soft and warm. It all felt so real, even in his deep state of unconsciousness. And he missed it with such a desperate, painful desire he had no choice but to break free. ...So he woke.
Bolting upright beneath the cotton sheets that clung horribly to his sweaty body, his breathing was laboured as if a house was crushing his chest and for a second his vision swam in and out of focus. However, soon the room was clear and sharp and he gazed around as stabbing pains shot through his weary limbs. And once again he saw her...Rose. Stood at the doorframe, her beautiful face resting on the wood, filled with such adoration and grief it made his heart ache. But it was impossible, she couldn't e here. He closed his tired eyes and rubbed his clammy face vigorously, he wondered whether she would still be there when he finished. Opening his dark eyes again he gazed towards the open doorway. No one was there. Rose had vanished. But what had he really expected? For his love to be there in the flesh, alive and breathing and real? Suddenly he found spots forming before his eyes and the searing pain increased tenfold. But now he was hallucinating. And even though he was close to passing out he knew that was hardly ever a good sign. But if his hallucinations were always of Rose, maybe he could just about live with them!
Rose leaned against the doorway gazing lovingly at the Doctor's sweating, pasty, shaking face. She watched full of grief as her love woke from his pain induced coma and bolted upright, gasping from the stabbing sensations that instantly spread through his body. In a flash she forgot the present as their eyes locked from across the room and for a split second she thought that maybe, just maybe she could throw down the facade. Let it all drop and go to the one person she would love for all of time and hold him in his last moments. Then with a swift movement of her golden waves, Rose Tyler tore her eyes from his and ducked into the corridor, her breathing was quick and panicked. She couldn't get caught now. And with a pained sob and no glance back Rose smoothed out her apron, before heading down the corridor, wiping away the warm, salty tears as she did so.
Once again memories played out in the Doctor's already aching head.
His Rose stood alone on that windswept beach, the place where their three hearts had broken. Behind her, her blonde hair blew wildly in the bitter wind. Cheeks that were usually tinged a beautiful pink were no more; instead they seemed pale and faint. Normally light filled eyes appeared dull, vacant and cold. She looked...dead. No wide, goofy smile graced her white lips that were now cracked and hard; her hands shook as they hung limply at her sides. There was no animation, just stillness and silence. And it was his fault. She was broken because of him. He had turned her into this cold, empty, hurting shell, a shadow of her former self. TO see her like that...she looked worse than worse than dead. AS if she was unable to feel anything. He had done much worse than cause her a few months of grief and pain. He had murdered her inside and for some reason knowing that made him want to give up living entirely.
It was then that he felt someone take his hand. Their touch was soft and gentle and comforting. He never wanted them to let go. A warm finger skimmed the top of his shivering hand, caressing it lovingly. He dreamt of the day he had asked her whether she still wished to travel with him. How terrified he had been of her saying no! But she hadn't. And soon they were discussing which direction to go in, together across the stars. Recalling that unforgettable, unique feeling of her hand entwined in his, he thought about how much this individual reminded him of Rose.
Slowly, slowly he opened his eyes. And as he had fathomed his love was sat on a chair by his side. Of course it was not really Rose, he thought sadly, in reality there was no one there. His hallucination Rose had returned to care for him. And his brain had not skipped even the tiniest detail. For there she sat, her face precisely as he remembered, right down to her brown flecked eyes and thick, black eyelashes; the blonde hair was longer, yes, but that soft wave and the shining hue was exact, and dressed in a high waisted blue-grey dress and crisp white apron she had never looked more stunning. Peering up sleepy eyed at her he gave this imaginary Rose a tender smile. She avoided eye contact but returned his unspoken greeting with a mournful glance and a small, upset smile that did not reach her eyes. No words were spoken and before long the Doctor was lost once again in his memories.
Memories of Rose crying as he lay ill...Dying for all she knew. Her mother pulled her into a tight hug as her tears fell, her shoulders shuddered and sobs wracked her body, loud and hard.
The way her warm eyes had filled with fear and she had backed away terrified and confused before his new body. And how her fear had melted when he took her hand tenderly in his and whispered a familiar word in her ear, "RUN!"
The next morning Rose flew through the narrow corridors of the country house, her feet barely touched the floor and her breaths were short, sharp and hurried. Passing door after door; jumping steps three at a time and just avoiding a head first collision with the scullery maid, she made it to the small room in record time. Readjusting her crumpled dress, and dishevelled waves, Rose entered the room courteously, though the chest still heaved and her head felt like it was going to burst. Instantly her wide, anxious eyes fell on the blanched, feeble and trembling figure of the once great man who had saved the universes a million times over. The grey haired doctor was just finishing packing his bag and stared at him, tears pricking in her eyes. As he walked past he gave a sorrowful look and shook his head regretfully; nodding her head in understanding she whispered a soft, "Thank you," managing to keep her voice fairly steady as she did so. He nodded and left. With a huge sigh she dropped must ungracefully into the chair beside his bed. Her eyes focused on his face and she cried. She cried with the knowledge that by the dawn her beautiful, caring and amazing Doctor would be no more.
A memory flared up in both Rose's and the Doctor's minds simultaneously. A memory that would never leave the pair free from pain as long as one of them drew breath. In the recount both forced smiles and half-hearted laughs from their broken souls. The words clumped together in their mouths and both struggled to speak as the tears began to flow and they longed to touch each other, despite the black void that lay between them. And then he faded. Faded so quickly he never got to finish that sentence, and although both knew what was left unspoken that day, they were both left devastated and silently weeping with a memory that would haunt the two forever.
Rose remained in his room for the rest of the day, refusing to eat or leave his side for any reason what so ever. Sitting perched on the edge of his bed; she mopped tenderly at his sweating brow and whispered to him lovingly. Hoping upon hope he would wake and se her for who she truly was. That he would say her name. Wishing for his survival was futile, she knew that. It was a shattering and distressing fact, but her cherished Doctor was going to die and no amount of hysterical tantrums would save him. So she dreamed of the time before his passing when he would wake and call her name instead. The thought kept her from cracking and lying down beside him to die too.
The rest of the household had journeyed up to the room to witness the mysterious fellows last moments. Every one of them gave Rose fleeting glances of either pity or disapprovement. She had become too attached. Rose hid in a corner, ignoring the looks as she peered mournfully but lovingly at the dying Time Lord. Hot tears spilled from her hollow, dead eyes and she cold feel her heart die with him. No one else cried; they hardly cared. But she ached and grieved and broke, uncomforted and abandoned by all those about her.
The last seconds of the Doctor's life was taken up by memories of his beloved Rose. Happy memories they were too. He would have grinned if his shaking, failing body had allowed.
The mind-blowing kiss he'd gotten from her possessed body. The sweet taste of her lips, unforgettable; and the feel of her drinking him in, unimaginable. If only if it had been his Rose Tyler, and not evil Cassandra.
The huge, relieved hug they'd shared after his encounter with The Wire, were he'd swept her off her feet and spun her round in his arms. So glad she was safe, both smiling so brightly they outrivaled the sun for a while.
The cool, dampness of her sponging his fevered forehead so soothingly and delicately it had given him goose bumps.
And finally the embrace they had had after he'd returned to her, when he'd betrayed her to save a woman in need. A woman he though he'd loved. But whom he soon realised was never as precious to him as Rose. It had taken a while to forgive himself for leaving her like that, making her so scared, even though she had forgiven him almost immediately and was busy worrying herself sick over his silence and solitude. Oh how he loved that blonde shop girl!
There was a glow of gold and then darkness came and took him. The Doctor departed once and for all. Earth had lost its defender. And as Rose watched him fall completely and desperate sobs shook her all over, she knew she had lost her heart.
The rising sun cast a bloody light over the silent house. Grey clouds lingered oppressively in the tainted sky, occasional fat, rain drops littering the frost-hardened ground. It was as if the Earth herself was in mourning. Rose Tyler stood clothed in black, like the rest of the household, a black lace veil clutched in her pale hand. Her eyes were still teary as well as being red, sore and swollen from a night of constant crying. She stood looking cold and distant as she watched a black carriage pull up outside. A wooden coffin was hauled over and bundled roughly. With a jerk the carriage began to move away, too quickly for her liking. She wanted his presence to linger for as long as possible, no matter how much damage it caused her. Before long the coffin and her love was past the gateposts and then they vanished from sight. A single tear wove its way gracefully down her crumpled face as she blew her Doctor a final, farewell kiss; then she trundled slowly off to the kitchens, fixing her veil as she did so.
Night fell and against her own wishes Rose found herself falling into sleeps numb embrace, actually enjoying not being able to feel the pain that ruled her waking hours. And then she was stood on a beach. A strangely familiar beach with large chunks of jutting rock and steel-grey wave's lapping at the sand. Bad Wolf Bay. Looking up, she drew in a sharp breath and found her body trembling. For there stood her Doctor, in all his glory, right down to his converses and pinstripe suit. An enormous, bright, contented grin was stretched across his handsome face; he gave her that proud look that made her feel so special and wonderful. She could not help but return his goofy smile; it was like a disease, contagious. Tears formed in her eyes but remained unshed. The Doctor continued to smile as he opened his mouth, stared deep into her soul and said in a tender, dreamy and satisfied voice the words she had been longing to hear for the past days. And with those two simple words she knew she would carry on living life to the full, for him, because it was all he'd ever asked from her.
"Say my name."