Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the 50th!

I have never written a fic in just one sitting before (I always agonize over these things *rolls eyes at self*) It is short, but here it is. Mistakes are all mine. Please be gentle. Trust me when I say that this one was done with love, as careless as I have been in just throwing it out there.

I've heard some people saying that anyone could have been "The Moment". But I think it needed to be Rose. It wouldn't have been the same otherwise. Below, I guess, are some of the reasons why.

I sure don't own Doctor Who, but my undying gratitude to Billie and David for coming back to make the 50th that more special. I miss you both. XXXX

A Moment's Reflection

She watched, intrigued as the three Doctors approached the "big red button". Would they do it? Could they, knowing what they knew?

"No more, no more, no more," she chanted to herself.

As the three hands made contact with her, she was suddenly thrust into their thoughts. Pain: the potential, the suffering, and the surviving.

And she was suddenly aware of what she … well, "Rose Tyler" was to each of them. And she was startled at the enormity of it all. No wonder she had felt so right choosing this small but strong human body as her interface. It all made sense.

To her Doctor who denied he was the Doctor, she represented a quiet (or not so quiet, sometimes) voice of reason … a challenge to the egotistical ranting of a very lonely being. But, there again, she had always been that for them. He should never be alone – not any of them.

The absent one … he wasn't here with his hand on the button, but she could sense his memories in the two younger-looking Doctors. To him she had been hope. Balm for a broken, tortured soul. To him, "Rose Tyler" had been a saviour in countless ways.

The one with the really great hair … wait, where had that thought come from? His mind was full of her, colouring everything about him. He had become who he was for her; halted another regeneration, stayed himself for her. She was the fulfillment of his love. She made him complete. Her absence was torture. His only consolation: that he had sacrificed his own comfort so that she would have the opportunity to have a really fantastic life. The one adventure he had always denied himself. And now, he knew his end was near, and he didn't want to go, didn't want to give up the body that represented everything she was for him. He didn't want to forget …

And he hadn't, not her, not ever. He would never just drop her off and leave her. She was part of him forever: tucked away in the mind of this other Doctor, the survivor. He was always moving, pushing painful memories aside (not quite forgetting) so he could continue … mad, but alive. But he wouldn't forget her. He kept her in a special place where he could take her out and relive moments, dream of impossible possibilities with her at his side, like a treasured book, always there to be reread and enjoyed.

She was loved, this "Rose Tyler", and she had loved back so deeply, so completely. And now, this her, this weapon of ultimate destruction, this Bad Wolf, would make sure that whatever these Doctors chose to do now, whatever path they took, they would take it knowing that it was an act of love, and that they were never alone. No more, no more, no more …