Ever so softly the snow fell that night. 'Twas Christmas Eve 2005; and the white snow fell like tears.
The Doctor staggered through the snow... he knew that he had seen her- remembered her- met her- for the final time.
And Rose didn't know who he was.
Oh, how they'd run through the stars and watch them shine- he'd never forget her smile.
But she didn't know him. Not yet. She still had all that joy to come.
All that pain.
He collapsed, crying out in agony- he could see it coming, could almost grasp it with the tips of his fingers- the darkness. It loomed on the edge of his vision like a nightmare that the dreamer knows will come, as soon as they close their eyes.
But it wouldn't take him. Not completely. It would take this body, this form, this mind. But not him. He would still be there. On the edge of the light, reminding them that he was still there... if they would listen.
He was sobbing now, weeping like the clouds, the tears falling like the snow. He didn't want to leave- he didn't want to let go. He remembered all those times, all those people- he didn't want to leave all that behind.
But then he heard it- the voice of wisdom.
"This song is ending, but the story never ends."
The Doctor struggled up; he could see it now. The hope, the love, the joy. It drove the despair away, to hover at the edge of his mind. He walked towards the box- oh, how he loved that box.
He stepped inside, like he always did, dropped his coat over the bar, ignoring the rack, and stepped up to the console. The despair was returning, it was coming to find him again- he couldn't hold it off.
He stared at his hands. It was starting. He was dying, alone, again. Alone. The Lonely Angel. Soaring above the minds, hearts and dreams of six billion beautiful creatures.
"I don't want to go!"
Then the Angel fell.