Her Name Is Rose

One-shot

"This friend of yours, what was her name?" Donna yelled.

"Her name is Rose," the Doctor informed, his voice breaking towards the end, as he shut the door. He slid down it and brought his knees up to his head.

Rose.

He blinked and remembered when Donna found her jacket. Rose's jacket. He blinked again, though told himself he was not holding back any tears. He reminded himself that he still hadn't cleared out Rose's room. He sighed out loud to himself at the thought of it.

It was a simple thing, though still so, so complicated. It was only a few things. A few simple, dumb things. Things that reminded him of Rose. Things that were still Rose's.

He had to keep telling himself. She was not dead. She was very alive. And in a real, safe place – a place with her family. A better place.

That's what he kept telling himself. He remembered telling her once, to do one thing for him, to have a fantastic life. He still meant it. He still meant it with all his heart.

His heart. Both of them, in fact.

He knew when he first saw her, when he first held her hand. She would be a hard one to get over. Yet he had to, he must; Time Lords were meant to be lonely... he thought so, anyway. He couldn't fall in love, she would only die, and leave him more alone...

He had said to Rose, once, that she couldn't spend the rest of her life with him, but he couldn't spend that rest of his life wither her. And he was right. He laughed to himself. He was always right. And how he hated it. It was the curse of the Time Lords...

He dragged himself up, and twiddled a few buttons and levers on the TARDIS, and slowly walked over to the corner, and picked up Rose's jacket. He remembered this jacket; the way it sat on her, the last time she wore it... he gingerly sniffed it, and it all came back to him in lots of huge waves. This was her. She was alive, yet she couldn't reach him, and he was cut off from her...

He let his legs take him to Rose's room. He opened the door gingerly, and his eyes swelled up when he looked inside. It was... it was exactly how she left it. Messy, albeit. He smiled. He could smell the perfume she always wore, and could see the small photos on her bedside. He walked across the room, and sat on her bed. Staring back at him was Mickey, Jackie, and Rose with a friend. There was once framed photo propped nearest to her clock with 'earth time' on it. It was the only picture of the Doctor and Rose. They never saw they need to take photos, he reminisced. He thought they would always be together, and why capture that in a picture? He thought he could see her again, for the next... ooh, for very many years.

The Doctor coughed as if to excuse himself, and he put the photo down that he had unconsciously picked up, a sad smile on his face. He walked across the room, and picked up a vase that Rose had always liked; he had never really got her fascination with it. But it had a rose in it. 'A rose for Rose' the Doctor had said, and Rose had even blushed when he bought and gave it to her. He picked it up and walked into the main room of the TARDIS.

He looked at the vase and smiled. He placed it down on a ledge.

'Yes,' he said to no one in particular. 'Yes I lost her. But she is still alive, very, very much alive. And her name is still Rose."