Ripples on the Pond; [Open to anyone that may know Nine and want to wander into his TARDIS.]
Rose was gone.
He couldn't blame her. Who wouldn't answer the siren song of a dead spouse? He knew she loved Jamie. Knew she was feeling restless here before Russia, and frustrated after. Of course she'd go to him.
But it all seemed so final.
Rose was gone.
The Doctor spent an hour wandering the corridors of the TARDIS. He couldn't go back to their bedroom. He probably wouldn't ever, and reminded himself that that was why he didn't share bedrooms. That was one reason. That was one very good reason.
There were cookies on the console, and he stared at them as if they were a dozen tiny alien invaders. Then he ate one, despite the feeling in his stomach, and knew immediately who had left them there.
Eventually he made it to the wardrobe, where he stood for another hour just looking at the old clothes. His clothes. Companions' clothes, long abandoned or not yet picked out yet.
That was where he was at this moment, among the physical reminds of lives that had been and had yet to be, of the people he'd shared and would share those lives with.
The Doctor was sitting alone.
Rose was gone.