Under appreciated Doctor/Rose moments→ The Doctor thinks Rose is dead in “Bad Wolf”
The times we learn the most about the Doctor are the times when he is most vulnerable. Here, the Doctor’s love for Rose is written all over his face and he holds nothing back. We see him become numb as he picks up what he thinks is Rose’s remains and as they fall through his fingers we hear Jack yell “Don’t touch him!” Jack knows how distraught he is because he loved her and he thinks she is gone, gone like everyone else he’s loved. And he needed her.
When Nine realizes Rose is actually alive, we can see relief rush through him and we think “Thank god” along with him because he just cannot lose her—it isn’t a possibility. It hurts too much.
And finally, Rose’s “death” is a striking parallel to Ten’s near-death in “Journey’s End” being shot by a dalek. It strengthens Rose’s comparison to being Pete’s World version of the Doctor and emphasizing not only Rose’s journey from ordinary to extraordinary but the Doctor’s openness to love.
“I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self respect and it’s these things I’d believe in even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all that she should be. But of course the real reason is that I love her and that’s the beginning and end of everything.” -F Scott Fitzgerald
AU→ Rose as a Time Lady and the Doctor as John Smith, her companion
John stands in the TARDIS as a soft yellow light uncurls itself, first from her skin then from her hair until her whole body is radiating. He stands watching in familiar striped trousers and blue top, a sense of hopelessness looming over and through him. For a fleeting moment he feels mundane; how spectacular a thing she is and how ordinary a man he is. But it passes because she looks at him, her hazel eyes all aglow.
She momentarily holds off the regeneration; she can feel the huon energy itching under her skin ready to burst. But she wants to take a last look at him with these heavily mascaraed eyes. His mouth is slightly apart, his freckles mismatched all across his face and his brown hair flying more wildly than usual. It was that hair and frenzied expression he usually wore that had attracted her to him in the first place. A manic grin, she knew, was always the making of a good companion.
“Rose,” he says weakly. “You can’t go.”
The gold is clouding around her. There is a faint smell of strawberries and void stuff. She gives him a wide smile, the kind he loves, with her tongue peeking round her teeth and over her lip, for the last time. And then there is a flare of uncontrolled light.