At nine hundred years old and the last of his kind, the destroyer of worlds, the Doctor had felt his fill of sadness. Had his hearts broken more times than he could even remember. Saw his fair share of death. But no matter how many friends he lost, no matter how many people he could not save, it was rare moments like these that seemed to make all the hurt melt away for one glorious, perfect instant.
"Everyone lives, Rose," the Doctor beamed and shouted into the night. A forgotten warmth returning to his chest. "Just this once, everyone lives!"