Why did it hurt so very much this time?

It was because he was fighting against it instead of succumbing to the inevitable. And it was inevitable – he had known it the moment he absorbed the Vortex, could feel it in the pain beginning to lick at his extremities.

The change was coming.

He had to fight it. He had one more mission to complete. He could not leave her unprepared, unprotected. He had to explain what was to happen, what was happening.

He did not want to leave this body. Such a surprising revelation. He finally felt at home in this skin – this skin that was becoming almost translucent, glowing with the energy being released by his dying cells.

He wanted to admit to her what he had at last admitted to himself – what he had been told by a Dalek in Utah, suspected in a church threatened by Reapers, danced around during the London Blitz, realized as he knelt by her ashes.

He loved her. Loved her. Loved…

But this was for his new self to discover, to reveal. The joy of love would not be bound up with the pain of loss as it always had been for him.

Ah, the pain…

He wanted to see her eyes one last time, as they looked at this him, the wounded survivor she had redeemed.

Wake up. Please wake up soon.

And finally there were her eyes, bleary and confused, no longer glowing gold, looking to him for understanding, her connection to the TARDIS and the Vortex forgotten. He said her name – it was like icy water on his scorching lips. He tried to put all he felt for her in those two words. It was not enough. It was never enough. He made her laugh while the inferno raged.

Now she was afraid, afraid for him as he began to lose the battle to stay with her. Words of explanation, such weak words. Why had he not told her about this before? It was such a struggle now to be clear and reassuring while he burned inside. How could he begin to tell her what she had done for him, to him? His savior, his protector, his champion, his friend – his brave, foolish, clever, beautiful girl?

As he spoke, he tried to imprint her into himself, into the very essence of him so that when he awoke he would know her. Not just Rose but his Rose. He did not want to lose all that she had become to him. Would she be able to see him when it was over, when he was finally new?

The agony was almost overwhelming now, and he welcomed it. He gave himself a last time as a sacrifice, a burnt offering in reparation for all he had seen and done. He hoped the next him would be purged of some portion of the remorse and guilt he carried, that regeneration would create a man more suited to, more deserving of her. She had helped him begin to forgive himself for the past, to find real joy in his present time. No reward could be too great for such a feat.

He needed one last smile from her so he could finish what had started, what was blazing, consuming him. So he said what he knew would work – fantastic – and the expression on her face gave him courage.

One more look through these blue eyes, soon to be no more… she was beautiful, so beautiful.

He could not see…

Synapses collapsing… neurons dying… must… let go…

Rose… Rose… Ro-

Immolation

…

Rebirth.