Epilogue

It had all happened so fast.

They'd been running toward each other. Then he'd been shot, been regenerating. Then he'd been fine, and they'd been in the TARDIS, and it was all going to be okay.

It was all going to be okay.

And then they'd been on the crucible, and then there'd been two of him, and then they'd saved the world, and they'd all been piloting the TARDIS together, and they'd been laughing and smiling and towing the earth home and saying their goodbyes and…

And then they'd been on a beach; a terribly, horrifyingly familiar beach.

And then one of him had said it, and the other hadn't, and she had kissed him, and then… then he'd been gone, and he hadn't even said goodbye; hadn't said anything at all.

He'd left her again, and he'd also stayed. He was with her and he wasn't. The hand in hers was familiar and yet not. Warm where it should be cool, but still fitting perfectly within hers. The decision had been made and he was gone and he was here and he wasn't him but he was.

It had all happened so fast.

Rose continued to stare at the space where the TARDIS had been and now was not; where her future had been and now was not; where her love had been and now was not. The hand that was still entwined with hers, the hand of the Doctor who wasn't the Doctor but so clearly was, the stranger with her lover's face, the man she knew better than she'd ever known anyone, squeezed hers tightly. She looked up at him helplessly, her eyes wide and shocked and full of tears.

"He left," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You… he… you left us here. He left me here. He's gone." She couldn't tear her eyes from his face, from his sad, apologetic eyes.

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry. We… he's… I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Rose. I couldn't stop him." He pulled her into a tight hug, and she clung to him because she didn't know what else to do and because she needed him and she needed him and she couldn't hold in her sobs and there was nowhere else to hide her face. "I'm so sorry," he repeated brokenly, "but I'm still me. I promise you, Rose, I'm still me."

Her body shook as she sobbed into his chest, his arms wrapped around her, holding her together as she tried to fall apart. "I know," she choked out when she'd gotten her breath back. "I know." Slowly, her breathing began to settle back toward normal, but she didn't let go, electing instead to stay curled against him, breathing in his familiar-but-not-familiar scent as she listened to the beat of his single, lonely heart, reminding her of everything she had and everything she'd lost.

He was the Doctor, but he wasn't. But he was. He had changed before, and maybe they'd never made it to Barcelona, but he'd still been him, and he was still him, and she'd missed him so much and she was so, so tired. Too tired to be angry, at least for now.

Finally, she pulled away from him and looked up at his concerned, pleading face. She sighed.

"Come on, Doctor," she said sadly, reaching out for his hand, which quickly grasped hers as though he was afraid she would pull it back. "Let's go home." His face relaxed with visible relief, his eyes suspiciously damp, and nodded silently.

Rose Tyler had had a very weird day.