A/N: I know there are probably hundreds of stories set after Journey's End, but I wanted to write this anyway. I actually like how it turned out, and hopefully you will, too.

Spoilers: Up to Journey's End.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or most of the dialogue used here.

I hate it. I absolutely cannot stand it. The hurt on her face as she realizes where we are, and why we're here. I don't want to do it, but I have to, so I try to hurry. The sooner I leave, the sooner I'll be on my own again. As it should be. Because this is the danger in companions. The hurt, the loss…The loneliness… It's worse after I've travelled with someone for a while.

So I try to hurry, try to explain quickly why she really must stay with him. But she's pleading with me, begging me, and it's killing me, because I just can't tell her no. Never could, really. It's not like I want to leave her, and she knows that, she has to, the way she's looking at me, breaking my hearts.

Or what if she doesn't know? What if she thinks I actually want to leave her here? No, she can't. She can't think that. I can't let her think that. And when she passionately argues that he isn't me, I'm tempted, for one moment, to agree. But I don't.

"He needs you. That's very me."

And it's true, and I hope she knows that. I need her. I do. But I can't have her. Not forever. He can.

"But it's better than that. Can't you see what he's trying to give you? Go on, tell her!"

Oh, Donna. Dear, dear Donna. She always has known me so well. I hurt already, thinking of what I'll have to do to her, but I don't have a choice. I never have a choice. Not with Sarah Jane, not with Rose, not with Donna….. It's never my choice. There's never even a choice at all. I force myself to focus; On myself, the other me, the one telling Rose about the future they could have. The future I never could have… And it's not fair.

It's what she wants to hear, I can tell. It's what she wants, too. She's told me from the start that she would stay with me forever, and now she can. She will. She'll have me forever. I just won't have her. I can just barely choke out the words I need.

"We've got to go. This reality is sealing itself off… Forever."

It's supposed to sound sad. It's not supposed to sound quite so heartbroken, quite so lost. Or maybe I'm the only one who hears it that way. She's running after us, begging us to wait. Begging us to understand that this isn't right-as if I didn't know that-because after all…

"The Doctor's still you."

"And I'm him."

It's the truth, but it's a lie. I'm not him. I wish I was. I wish I was the one with one heart, and one life, because then they could both be hers, but I'm not. He is. And he's me. And it's not supposed to hurt like this.

"Alright, both of you, answer me this."

And I stop, and I face her. So does he. Because no matter what form I'm in, I'm powerless to refuse Rose Tyler.

"When I last stood on this beach, on the worst day of my life, what was the last thing you said to me?"

Not this. Anything but this. I can't… The memories from that moment come rushing back.

"Go on, say it."

I had come so close to telling her, but the universes closed off, and I was almost ready to destroy two universes just to finish that sentence. But now…

"I said 'Rose Tyler.'"

Now, I can't. Not if I honestly want what's best for her. And I do. More than anything, I do. But it's hard, and getting harder, to look her in the eye and try to convince her that this is for the best, that I even have the right to make the choice.

"Yeah, and how was that sentence going to end?"

I can't. I can't make the choice, but I don't have to. Because she can. And I hate to do it, I hate to force the decision on her, but it's killing me, and I have to.

"Does it need saying?"

It's a genuine question. Does it need saying? Because if it does, then that brings about a whole list of other things; marriage, a baby, stability…A future. A solid future with promises and security. And I can't give her that. If it doesn't need saying, then I'll take her with me. My resolve is weakening by the second, and if she doesn't need that-if she doesn't need promises and things, then she needs adventure, excitement, and running across the universe together. And even if that's not what she deserves, if it's what she wants, I won't-can't-deny her that.

So it's her choice, and one tiny, selfish part of me dares to hope that she'll say no.

But she turns away from me, as I somehow knew she would, and asks him-the other me-how that sentence was going to end. And he tells her, I know he does, because she pulls him close, and kisses him, and it should be me, but it can't be. Not now, and not ever.

No one can see my face, so just for a moment, I don't even have to pretend that it's not killing me. It is. But no one will ever know that, except for me.

I leave now, because if I stay longer, I'll only beg her to change her mind, to come with me, and she will, and she'll be miserable. So will he. So I leave.

"When I last stood on this beach, on the worst day of my life, what was the last thing you said to me?"

She won't even look at me. She'd rather hear it from him, I know. Never mind that I can remember as clearly as he can, the desperation with which the words were said. Never mind that I can feel the pain as fresh and as raw as if I was there, because I was, even if I wasn't, not really.

"Go on, say it."

She'd rather hear it from him, and I don't mind. Because how can she be expected to make a choice like that? The Doctor and the TARDIS, or the Doctor and the mortgage? No contest.

"I said 'Rose Tyler.'"

She's hurt. I can see it. She wants him to say it. She's wanted him to say it for so long, but she hasn't needed it. Now, I think, she does.

"Yeah, and how was that sentence going to end?"

My heart skips a beat at the thought that he could say it. He could say it, and she'd leave, and I'd be stuck here, with only Jackie and Pete Tyler, and Rose the dog, for company. But more importantly, stuck without my Rose. It would be so easy for him to say it. And I wouldn't-couldn't-blame him one bit.

"Does it need saying?"

It's a test. He's giving up the choice, giving her the choice. And that's worse, for me. Because she won't chose me over him. Never. Because in her eyes, understandably, I'm just a shadow of the man she loves.

But she turns to me, her eyes pleading with me, and the heartbreak in them kills me. I'm her last resort, but suddenly, I don't mind. I just want her to stop hurting like that.

"And you, Doctor? What was the end of that sentence?"

Instinct tells me not to say it, tells me it's dangerous, and tells me I could lose her, but today, I don't listen. I've followed that instinct too long, I've nearly lost her too many times, and I just want her to stop hurting. So I lean in, and whisper into her ear. I've waited far too long to say it.

"I love you."

It's so easy, really. The words slide of my tongue like they were meant to, and I wonder what took me so long to say it. I wait, heart pounding, as her eyes search mine, looking for any sign that-really-I'm not her Doctor. Because I can't be. But there's nothing, because I am.

And then she's kissing me, and all thoughts vanish but one: I could have lost her. That fear drives me to hold her close, kissing her, trying to convince her that I really am me, and I really do love her.

The shutting door pulls me back to reality, and her as well, as she pulls away and runs toward the vanishing TARDIS. I listen to the echoing noise, for the last time. I say goodbye to all that it represents, everything it implies, and everything it stood for.

Then I step forward, taking her hand, assuring her that I'm still here, I'm not leaving. She looks at me, a lost look in her eyes, and I don't have any answers for her. Then she's kissing me again, and it's wonderful, but I know it'll end soon. Reality will crash down on her again and she'll pull away. Physically and emotionally at the same time, she'll shut down, pushing me away.

Reality comes in the form of her mother, yelling at us across the beach.

"Hey, you too, give it a rest. Time to start heading back."

She pulls away and so do I, and we walk side by side, dread filling me. It's over, now, and she won't want me anymore. How could she? I love her completely, but if it wasn't for me, she'd be out in the TARDIS, traveling with the man she loves. And I'm him, but she doesn't realize that, might not ever realize that.

Her hand slips into mine, holding it tight, and I glance at her, surprised and hopeful. She grins back, and I understand. Oh, Rose. Oh, oh, Rose. She made her choice. Me. She's accepted me. She chose me. She doesn't see me as an echo, a shadow, or a clone. She looks at me, and she sees her Doctor.

I know it won't always be this easy. I'm sure there will be days where neither of us can take it. We'll miss the TARDIS, the traveling, and the life we used to lead, and she'll have doubts, and so will I, but in the end, those won't matter. In the end, I know with sudden certainty, we'll be alright. So I squeeze her hand and say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Run."

And we do.

A/N: Well, what did you think? I sort of enjoyed it, myself. Anyway, thank you for reading, feel free to review, (You have no idea how happy reviews make me. ;) and God Bless.