The Doctor stopped the TARDIS, checking to make sure the coordinates were correct. His converses sounded too loud as they knocked against the grate of the console room floor, echoing around the lonely box. He still remembered the expression on Rose's face when she realised that it was bigger on the inside, and the pure joy he felt when she finally agreed to come with him. But now, without her voice echoing throughout the corridors, he hated the box for being too big, far too big for a lone traveller. He knew it wasn't the TARDIS' fault, but right now he was angry at it, angry that it had let him take Rose to Torchwood, angry that it couldn't travel to Pete's world. He knew he should feel guilty about the anger directed at his faithful blue box, but the anger made it easier. It distracted him from the pain.

He walked around the console, heading to the TARDIS door. As he was walking, he noticed Rose's top, casually slung over the railing. He thought it wasn't possible for him to feel even worse, but the sight of the fabric felt as though someone was attacking his already shattered hearts with a blowtorch, burning them until they were charred. Uncertain of what he was doing, he picked it up and buried his nose in it. Her scent still lingered on the fabric, stronger than in most other places in the TARDIS. The Doctor's tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision and staining the fabric. Clutching the shirt, he continued his solemn procession to the door.

Holding the shirt to his hearts, the Doctor dragged open the door. Tears streaming from his eyes, he could only just make out what he had come for; the largest black hole in existence. It was a trillion time denser than the one that he and Rose had visited, and millions of light years in diameter. The TARDIS engines were groaning from the power needed to prevent the ship being pulled in to where countless stars, planets and whole galaxies had ended their time. Leaning against the door frame, the black hole in the corner of his eye, the Doctor pulled out a letter and read it one last time.

My Doctor,

I know it scares you, and that you cannot let anything come of it, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you more than anything in this universe, more than anything in time and space and every universe. Basically, I love you more than anything that ever has or will exist, more than everything else put together. If you combined every star from every universe, it still wouldn't be as strong as how I feel about you. I will love you until the day that I die, and beyond that, because something as small as death could never crush the fire within.

You never say, but I get the feeling that you might love me too. It's okay that we can't allow ourselves to get any closer, no matter how much I wish we could. I know that eventually I will wither and die, that my life span is a blink of an eye compared to yours. The future is inevitable, even for us time travellers. But I promised you forever, and I will do anything in my power to keep that promise. Because Sarah-Jane was right; some things are worth having your heart broken for. And if, you don't love me, then that's fine too, I'll still love you just as much.

With all my heart, my mind, and my soul,

Love Rose

She had given him the letter after they went to see the 2012 London Olympics. It had broken his hearts then, not being able to tell her how he truly felt. Guilt washed over him as he recalled how he never reassured her that he returned the feelings. Now, with her trapped in a parallel universe, she would have nothing to comfort her when she couldn't get to sleep at night. He had the letter, a solid reminder that she loved him, as well as memories of her saying it. She didn't even have that.

The Doctor looked out at the black hole, the only thing in existence that could sum up how he felt. While he longed to launch himself in, to crush the endless emptiness in his heart, the Doctor knew in both his hearts that he had to stay strong. For Rose. For while he was still alive, there was hope. He would find a way, no matter how impossible it seemed, to tell her how he felt. Because she deserved to know.

With a sigh, the Doctor carefully folded up Rose's letter, tucking it back into the inner pocket of his pinstriped suit, close to his hearts. He considered sending Rose's shirt into the black hole, a sort of memorial service. But he didn't; he didn't want to let go just yet. Instead, he past the console, through the TARDIS, into his grand bedroom. There, under the red and gold covers, he tucked the shirt, so that the smell would penetrate his dreams.