Short Story. Rose gets her happy ending, even if it isn't what she originally expected.
Words Left Unsaid
Sometimes, when her life gets too complicated and she feels like she's standing over a pit, looking into a black hole with herself reflected back, her soul crushed into a tiny symmetrical cube - sometimes she goes back to Bad Wolf beach.
She's got a little hut there, so she sits and watches the waves and shivers, just a little, with cold or nostalgia or something different. She doesn't belong in this world, not really. Her mom - and dad - have their baby, and Mickey has that guy with the van. Honestly, she doesn't like to ask.
When she looks at the depressions her feet make in the sand, she feels as if she could stand there forever - in sixty years, when she's an old, old woman, she could still be here, waiting for him to say it. She knows, she /knows/, what he was going to say, but it's unfinished, all of it, and she'll never rest.
Rose wonders if the Doctor exists here, but she figures that there's only one of him and he's safely on the other side of the gate. One Doctor for all the universes. There couldn't be more of them - his energy could eat up stars, swallowing them whole and licking its fingers.
Rose...I suppose if I'm ever going to say this...
She mouths the words to herself, the words left unsaid. She doesn't dare say them out loud. She doesn't think she'll ever smile again.
The next week, wandering through Glasgow, she walks into a man with holographic glasses and a disarming smile. Maybe, just /maybe/, she'll have to revise that theory.
Maybe she'll find her smile.