Rose never understood why the Doctor kept coming back to that planet. Some barren planet, with a thin atmosphere and no life in sight. An endless expanse of crumbling rock and scorched soil. A sun too big for its britches, burning away this planet piece by piece. Only the briefest of respites at night, where the land freezes with what little moisture is less.

It was a dead planet. A planet so devoid of life and meaning that it just sat there, counting down the seconds to oblivion.

The Doctor had taken her to see so many wonderful things. Tsunamis frozen in an instant. Skies filled with diamonds. The topaz beaches on the ruby shores. Things that she couldn't begin to see in her wildest imagination. The beauty of the universe, a wooden door away.

And yet, this was the planet he came back to. Not often, not regularly. It wasn't like Earth, where he seemed to practically live half the time. He complained about the stupid monkeys, sure, but he was always there to save the day. He liked it, she knew. He loved the attention and the praise and the danger. He loved the vibrancy of it all.

But this planet didn't have any of that. This planet was just a dust bowl that ran out of time. The exact opposite of where you'd expect to see the Doctor.

There he was, once again. Looking up at the night sky. Searching, briefly, before his eyes landed on what he wanted to see. There was a flicker of emotion, a slight hint of sadness, just for a moment. He'd turn back and smile, but it didn't quite reach the eyes. It'd be there, as they left.

It's only when Jack joined that she understood why they kept going back now. Kept travelling to a planet with no name, not even designated a code by any civilization. Just a hunk of rock sailing through the sky.

She remembered her science teacher telling her about the stars once. In between her looking at Sammy and wondering what he saw in that tart Trisha, and her daydreams about going out and being a superstar on the stage. He said that the light of the stars takes thousands of years to reach us, and that the stars we're looking at could have long died, and we wouldn't know. We're just seeing a snapshot of the past, nothing more.

A snapshot. That's all he had. A small glimmer of light in the night sky, a light long since extinguished. Had there ever been life on this planet, they might have looked up at the sky and seen this star. They might have wondered what was orbiting that star, so long ago and so far away. They might have even given it a name of their own.

But the Doctor knew it's true name. And as he looked, tears at the back of his eyes, he saw a snapshot of his past. Of everything he had ran from and now, more than ever, wanted to run back to. A lifetimes of joys and regrets in a single glimpse of the past.

Rose never told him that she learned that he was looking at the remains of Gallifrey, the last little bit of light that travelled across the stars. It wasn't her place to say. But once she figured it out, she made sure to go outside and stand with him.

Maybe on some third planet, somewhere out there, there were another group of aliens looking at the night's sky. Maybe they'd be able to focus on this dead planet, and magnify it to an uncomprehending degree. And maybe, just maybe, they'd see two figures holding hands. A snapshot, of a happy time. It may have passed, but it was never truly gone now, was it?