A/N: So, this is my very first Doctor Who fic, so please be kind. This is a Doctor/Rose angst fic. Since it takes place during Parting of the Ways, it's Nine. So, basically, this is kind of a double AU. The normal text is one storyline, and the italicized text is another one. Please don't get them confused. Italicized text within the normal text indicates emphasis or thought. Special props to my beta Tara who waded through it and told me all the problems. Other than that, enjoy. And leave feedback, if you will.
He always knew that it would happen. Someday. He'd face an enemy that he wouldn't be able to con and eventually figure out how to destroy—and she'd be left. His Rose. Without him. How had Jackie put it? Stuck with his blue box on a moon somewhere. He laughs and smiles, but he knows that he couldn't do it. Leave her there with him. So they could both die. He's seen too much, hurt too many, killed too many. His death won't mean anything. Last of the Time Lords. He repeats the title in his head. Some title. He was a murderer. Slaughtered his own people. There was no pride in being a survivor. He survived because he had killed it. Everything. But Rose? She's nineteen. She has a future.
She laughs; face brightening as it usually does and golden hair flying about. She's content here, will always be, as long as it means adventures with him. She loves him, and he knows it. Her eyes are shining as she looks up at him. He smiles back, and fights the urge within him to kiss her. He can't love her. He just can't. So he fights the desire back with a tight grin, almost fake in its utter joyfulness. "Where next?"
He makes the decision in his head. Rose is worth saving. She was never meant to die at the hands of a Dalek or anything else on some moon in the year 6050. She was never meant for this life. He was. But he always had a soft spot for apes. It didn't hurt that she was pretty either. She ended up becoming one of the best companions he'd had. Maybe the only one he's ever loved in this way. And that's why he has to save her. Because he knows what his love does to people. And he won't let her die.
She's sitting at the table, idly waiting for the water to boil, eyes drooping, hair mussed, still half asleep. Once she's had her cup of coffee and starts scavenging for breakfast, he decides to tell her. He sits at the table across from her. She's smiling and happy, and he's trying to brace himself for it, for the hurt, for the hatred. "Rose?" She looks up at him, eyes shining, demeanor playful.
"Yeah?"
"Pack your bags. I'm taking you home." Her mouth hangs open and her eyes don't even dare to conceal the hurt she feels. He sees it all. He cringes inwardly. He's too well-trained to break through the wall he's constructed. Everything comes to an end. Even this.
He bluffs, talking big, like he always does. Spouting off some plan that doesn't exist, making up devices, and just asking her to get into the TARDIS. This'll work. It has to work. She has no reason not to trust him. And maybe that's the greatest sin he's committing. She's done nothing against him except love him, help him, travel with him. He's betraying her. His Rose. He shakes his head almost violently, trying to get the thought out of his head altogether. She's not his anymore. She was never his.
Her eyes are shining now too, but with a different emotion. This is his Rose. She wasn't just going to sit down and accept this without a fight. "Why?" He can hear it, the raw hurt in her voice. Tears are streaking down her face, and he's watching it, soaking it in, and keeping as stoic as possible.
"It's not safe."
She's still sobbing, choking back tears. She practically spits it at him. "It was never safe."
"Well, it's my ship, and I say you're goin' home."
She meets his stare, equally cold. Even now, she can feel the dull pain in her chest. She's trying so hard to hate him, to turn all the love she had for him into hate, trying to make him into a monster in her head. She wipes the tears from her eyes violently, and stares back at him, eyes red and puffy. "Fine." He can hear the sound of her aggravated steps as she heads to her room.
He feigns a "eureka" moment, springs to his feet, kisses her forehead. It's the last time he'll kiss her, touch her, talk to her, anything. He pulls her with him, rushing them both into the TARDIS, and tells her to hold down some random switch. He says something about using the power from the game station to jump start the thingamahoozit, and she believes him, because…well…why wouldn't she? He starts it up, can hear the familiar whirring, and her screams. He doesn't say anything, feel anything. Everything comes to an end.
She's packed her bags and sobbed in the shower. Now, she just feels empty and tired. She wants to hate him so badly, but she just can't bring herself to do it. She walks out to the control room, convinced that she looks normal. "I'm ready," she says. There's no uncertainty. If he wants to send her home, fine. She'll welcome it with open arms. Even if she hates it.
He pushes the familiar switches and doohickies, and she hears the sound. The familiar sound of the TARDIS. It's the last time she'll hear it. It's the very last time. It stops, and he looks at her, waiting. She takes a deep breath, and stifles the tears that are rising. She turns. "You're a coward." She forces her lips onto his for the briefest of moments, tongue sweeping. She pulls away just as quickly. She touches her lips for a second, the lightest of touches, and laughs, a cold, bitter laugh he never would have expected her to have. "Have a fantastic life." Her caustic tone makes him cringe. He doesn't think he'll ever use the word fantastic again. She opens the door and starts walking. He can feel a dull pain in his chest, but it's for the best. Maybe if he says it enough, he'll start to believe it. He watches her form, disappearing in the mass of people. And during all that time…
She never looks back.
He takes a rapid breath. The Dalek is talking to him, and if he had any sort of emotions of any kind, he's sure it would be fear. But the Dalek is hoping to appeal to his conscience. It doesn't matter anymore. He hits the button, and sits down on the floor. The computer counts down the time. He thinks about Jack and Rose, his people, his past, his world. Finally, it will all be over. He smiles. It's a sad smile, neither the manic grin he uses to mask his emotions nor the genuinely happy smiles that pop up on rare occasions. He sits, and he waits.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
He dies with her name on his lips.
She still goes and visits it from time to time. Her mother thinks she's crazy, wasting her money to keep it hidden in a storage garage. She goes, cleans it, maintains it. It's part of her life, part of her history. And she'll never let it collect dust. She goes in occasionally. She still has the key he gave her. She's taken the time to discover all the rooms.
When she misses him, she steals into his room, and takes one of his jumpers. For someone who didn't sleep very often, his room is fragrant with his own…scent, and she revels in it. She remembers how she clutched the jumper to her chest and wept.
She even figured out how to play the hologram again. She—Rose Tyler—who couldn't even pass her A-Levels. It's all that she has left of him. After all, everything comes to an end.