He could remember with painful accuracy the last time he'd felt such a magnitude of despair. Even after three hundred years, the pain, rage, and fear stung just as sharp as it had then. The Curse of a Time Lord… How could he ever think himself victorious?e

Just as crisply, he remembered her face when they met; the blank look of shock that clouded her usually sharp senses. He had been, and still was, shocked at how quickly she became attuned to running, once she'd stop questioning him… He missed her dearly, and the challenge she became.

Always somewhat out of reach, like a star in orbit around him. She came out of nowhere, yet perfectly fell into sync with his orbit, moving with him as he travelled around a thousand suns, always just out of reach. Oh, she had been such a tease. Then, tragically, and without warning, she was flung out of his orbit, into another galaxy, completely unreachable. He remembered the stars that came in place of her, never quite falling into the same path, as Martha had tried. And Donna Noble, oh, Donna Noble, she'd created her own path that threw the Doctor so off course, but he'd loved her all the same.

And then she came hurtling back into his orbit, falling in with such perfection he'd realized she'd never stopped orbiting him, she'd just travelled back a ways. Then, he sent her back out, for her own good, how he hated himself at the time for being so selfless.

Now, it seems, she was returning again, to complete another orbit. Exploding into a supernova he could not dismiss. Rose Tyler, his Rose Tyler, was coming back. She had to be, she always did when he needed her most, especially when he didn't even know it.

She'd pulled him out of his misery once; surely she had come again to pull him out, as she had before. With love and smiling and laughter that was so infectious the stars burned brighter just to hear more of it.

Then the Doctor, with his two broken hearts, still raw and ravaged with pain, broke down in his new, cold TARDIS and cried. He missed her, he missed laughing and caring and not caring about the pain. He had never even thought he'd lose her until she was gone, then he'd thought she wouldn't come back, and there she came. Always, his Rose Tyler, defying the odds.

His left hand came up to wipe away his tears, a more tender gesture of the leftover Tenth Regeneration in his system. Perhaps it was why he'd never let go of Rose, not truly. Or maybe it had just been love. Because he had loved her once, as he'd never loved anyone.

She was his wonder, his light, his Bad Wolf. Where she had come up with that, he'd never know, nor did he really care.

She was seared into his hearts, but unlike the Ponds, who were painful scars, she still burned.

Rose Tyler… she had to come back to him. She always did.'

I swear to God, if Rose doesn't meet Eleven in the 50th special I'm going to send a jar a piss to Moffat.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!