So I've been gorging on massive amounts of Doctor Who these past few days, which is why I'm writing this story now. It's just going to be a one-shot, but I felt compelled to write it.

It's going to cover those months at the end of Doomsday before Rose had the dream up to when the Doctor runs out of time. By the way, I was BAWWING LIKE A FREAKING BABY all through the end of Doomsday. Seriously. No matter how many times I watch it, it always gets me.

Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who, but I totally wish I did. BECAUSE IF DID, ROSE AND THE DOCTOR WOULD BE TOGETHER FOREEEEEVVVVEEERRRRRR.


"TAKE ME BACK! PLEASE, TAKE ME BACK! PLEASE, PLEASE."

She pounded with all of her might on the wall separating her and the Doctor, sobbing so hard it hurt, but nothing hurt as much as what that wall represented—permanent separation from the Doctor.

NONONONO, THIS IS ALL WRONG! I LOVE YOU, COME BACK! PLEASE, I LOVE YOU! her head raged. It felt like her entire world was crashing down around her ears, and in a way it was .There had to be a way to get back, she had thought. The Doctor couldn't just leave her there.

Oh but he could, and he certainly would, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. She sobbed harder, pressing her cheek into blank wall. If she closed her eyes and thought about him hard enough, she could almost feel him on the other side of the wall. They could have been cheek to cheek.

The more rational part of her knew that he wasn't going to go back for her. He probably thought he was keeping her safe. But Rose didn't like being rational. Even as she turned to go, she still believed in the Doctor, her Doctor.

Months later, Rose Tyler would still wake up to the sound of her own screams. Sometimes, her hands and wrists would ache a little bit, too.

She had crept out of her new home every night for two weeks, undetected by her mother and father, to go back to the abandoned Torchwood headquarters. Night was the only time she could really be alone with her thoughts. During the day there was always someone there, watching and waiting for her to fall apart. But at night, here at that stupid wall, she allowed herself the emotion she rejected wholeheartedly during the day. She would just watch the blank space in front of her, usually as she cried, and try to imagine the Doctor sitting there with her.

Even as she had jumped onto the lever, Rose had known it was going to be the stupidest decision she would ever make. Still, she had to do it; she had to keep the void open. The horrified look on the Doctor's face as she clung to the lever with everything she had would haunt her forever. She remembered him screaming her name and reaching for her when she could hold on no longer. But while the feel of her father's arms around her, taking her to safety, should have been a comfort to her, Rose couldn't help but feel that a life without the Doctor wasn't worth living anyway.

After those first two weeks, she found she didn't have to go back to Torchwood to remember the Doctor; he was all around her. Rose could feel him with every step she took, everything she felt. She didn't know if that was worse than not feeling him at all. She refused to give up hope that they would ever be together again.

The volume of her life seemed to be turned on low as she struggled through the haze of being left behind. She thought about him constantly, his voice the only thing she really wanted to hear. Did he ever think about her? Was anyone looking after him? Was he trying to find a way back to her? Did he even want to find a way back to her? The days passed by in black and white, the color having drained from her life. Was this even a life, this day-to-day existence she was experiencing?

After two months, she stopped praying for a miracle. She got up every morning, she got dressed, kissed her parents goodbye, and went to work. Ironically, she found a position at the new Torchwood. She could walk past that room and that wall everyday, she was allowed to experience that day over and over again, because it was her job to be there. Her heart would ache unbearably just being there, but she would suck it up and keep going, because that's all she could do. Jackie had recently discovered she was expecting a baby; Rose couldn't just fall apart when her mother needed her.

Mickey had found a job at Torchwood, too. But unlike Rose, he avoided that awful spot as much as was possible. He didn't want to remember the day his best mate's life fell apart, didn't want to be reminded that she wasn't the same girl. Poor Mickey. He had felt his share of pain in all this, as well. There was the pain of being powerless to help ease Rose's suffering. There was the pain of knowing that, despite the man she loved being gone forever, Rose still didn't want him. But he was always there for her, affection never wavering.

Rose was finally able to sleep a full night after four months, but she would wake up with her entire body feeling bruised. Sometimes when she slept, she could almost feel him there. There were mornings where she would wake up and see her fingers curled as if they were holding someone's hand. Those mornings were the worst. Those were the mornings she felt centuries older, yet years younger at the same time. Those were the mornings she was nineteen all over again, feeling a hand pull her along in the darkness, away from danger.

There were no more tears after four months, either. They all seemed to just dry up. Rose felt like an empty shell walking around. That damn wall had built a new home in her heart, separating her from the rest of the world. It was as if everyone was light years away, as if she were standing still as the world spun on around her. Despite being at Torchwood for two months, she couldn't remember anyone's name, save Mickey's. She couldn't relate to her co-workers, whose lives kept going while hers did not.

Finally, after five months, she had the dream. For several nights she had woken with a start to whispering that seemed to be coming from inside her head. It was just her name, Rose, but the word wrapped itself around her brain and wouldn't let go. Something was coming, she could feel it. One night she got the message she still secretly hoped would come. Behind her eyes, images flashed. She saw the Doctor with so much clarity she felt she could reach out and touch him, she saw a beach that felt too far for her heart to travel, she saw a road spanning thousands of miles. The next morning, she gathered her parents and Mickey into the sitting room and told them what she had seen. By that afternoon, their bags were packed and they were on the road.

They drove for days and days, each one blending into the one before it. They stopped only when nature made it necessary, whether it be for a restroom break or for food. During the drive, Rose ate little and slept less; she spoke when necessary, usually just to direct whoever was driving. Though they knew they were driving blindly, with no real destination in mind, no one voiced their concerns, not even Jackie. They would exchange worried glances when they thought she wasn't paying attention, they would silently fret over her well-being, but never once did they question the journey. Everyone in that car knew that Rose needed this journey, even if it didn't turn out the way they knew she was hoping.

When they reached Norway, Rose felt a tingling begin in her toes. The closer they got to the coast, the more the tingling spread. When the feeling became nearly unbearable, Rose demanded they pull over at a store in the middle of nowhere. A very nice man working there, his broken English making his words difficult to understand, asked her if they were headed down to Bad Wolf Bay. The second the words left his mouth, Rose thought her legs would give out on her. She immediately returned to the car and told them to keep driving.

Upon arriving at the beach, Rose felt her heart grow heavier than it had ever been. The atmosphere surrounding the bay was somber, the sky overhead a faded gray and the waves lapping sadly at the sand. What an appropriate place for a goodbye, she thought. But Rose refused to let that type of thought overtake her; maybe this wouldn't be a goodbye. Something in her made her get out of the car, called her towards a certain spot on the sand.

She did not stand there long before a faded figure appeared before her. The Doctor had come at last. She was crying before she had fully grasped what was going on. When his image became so clear he appeared to be actually standing before her, she had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him. The way his eyes bored into hers, saying everything he wasn't, she knew before asking that this would be the final goodbye. This would be the time where she needed to empty herself of everything she needed to say, but Rose struggled to find the right words.

Finally… I-I love you, she choked out, pouring her soul into the words.

The way he had looked at her then, his gaze very nearly a caress, made her entire body go numb. "Rose Tyler," he said. This was it, this was the moment the Doctor would say what she had always known.

And then he was gone. No warning, no nothing. He just faded away, as if he had never existed at all. The I love you that never came seemed to be swallowed up in the wind rushing around her. Suddenly she was looking at that blank wall all over again, throwing herself with all her might against it. Now was the time to fall apart. It was finally over, all those months of hoping and wishing and waiting, and it wasn't enough. She was four years old all over again and all she wanted was her mother. She spun around wildly, ready to run into those safe arms.

Jackie had known immediately what to do and ran for her daughter. She wanted to kiss every one of those tears off of her face, curl up with her on the sofa, and make her some scalding tea. She wanted to take all of this pain away, wanted to remove all memory of the Doctor. But Jackie knew that none of that would help. What her daughter needed at that moment was her mother's arms, reassuring her that someone was there and that someone who loved her wasn't going to disappear in thin air.

It was night on the beach by the time Rose had cried herself to sleep. Mickey lifted her out of Jackie's arms and into the car, Pete and Jackie climbing in after them. They drove all night, trying to put as much distance between the beach and the heartbroken girl as possible. They took their time driving back home, turning the trip into a sort of vacation. Rose needed some time to heal before returning to the real world.

Rose's head had stopped spinning when they reached London; it had been spinning madly since the moment the Doctor disappeared. Rose figured it was the world catching up with her once more. The day after her return, Rose marched into Torchwood with a new determination. If she couldn't rejoin the Doctor, she would just have to make him proud. Her co-workers didn't know what to make of this new woman who was so sad but so fierce. She handled alien affairs as if she had done it for years and never took any credit for her deeds.

Sometimes at night, Rose could hear him. The end of that sentence drifted along on the top of the breeze, blowing into her head and around her heart. Instead of twisting her heart painfully, as it would have done before, it rested gently there, pushing her forward. She could—no, she would—get on without the Doctor. He would be disappointed if she didn't.

Perhaps someday they would meet again, on some impossible day under some impossible circumstances. Until that day, she would get up every morning, she would go to work, and she would maybe make a difference in the world. At night, she would dream of a man who carried her heart with him somewhere in universe, and she would keep reaching for a warm, familiar hand that wasn't there.