Thought I'd finally post the beginning of a fic I started writing AGES ago, and because of the length of time since it was written I think I can be forgiven for this being yet another post-Doomsday fic... :)
Anyway, this is really quite a dark fic to begin with, the prologue especially, but I hope you like it. There is graphic description of suicide and of thoughts along the same line...you have been warned!
Prologue
It has been five days and six hours since Rose Tyler last saw the Doctor. Therefore, it has been five days and six hours since her heart and soul were broken and, inside, she died.
It has been five days and two and a half hours since she took to her bed and hasn't emerged since; lacking the strength and will to carry on, exhausting herself by crying, torturing herself by remembering constantly and wishing on what-ifs. In this time, she hasn't eaten, and has only half-heartedly kept herself alive by drinking water from the tap on the sink. She has ignored the comforts and pleas cried from the other side of the locked door. She thinks it's only a matter of time before they threaten to break it down. She has barely moved but for the tossing and turning whilst sobbing or dreaming when she, sometimes unwillingly, surrenders herself to unconsciousness; plagued by cruel images of the sight of the Doctor, so real, always just out of her reach. She thinks he wouldn't want her like this, but he is no longer there to tell her what he wants and what he doesn't, not that he made it that clear when he was there. And, of course, if he was with her, her situation wouldn't even exist and so was incomparable. Rose cannot help herself. And so, she cannot help thinking and counting.
It has been one month and eleven days since Rose last felt the Doctor's touch…
It has been one month and thirteen days since the Doctor last held her in his arms…
When her subconscious rarely brings him within her grasp, the feel of him is so real; her senses are assaulted, his hands, his smell, his double heartbeat pounding against her chest as he crushes her against him. So bittersweet. Because, then, she never wants to wake, but cannot completely lose herself to the dream; there is always the niggling voice telling her it isn't real.
Rose's bare feet touch the carpet as she slowly swings herself from the confines of her bed. Without knowing exactly why, she crosses the short distance to stop, standing in front of the mirror. If she still had it in her to care, she might have been shocked. Even in the semi-darkness, she can still make out her features; the girl staring back at her is a stranger.
Her dyed blonde hair hangs greasy and limp, the dark roots ever more prominent to the eye, framing her pale, tear-stained face. Her night clothes are beginning to hang off her as she neglects her body. However, her eyes bare the most evidence of her suffering. They are dark, lacking life, hope and conviction. Red-rimmed, there are also dark circles beneath them.
Out of the depths of her chaotic mind, her mothers voice comes to the forefront, She's not Rose Tyler, not anymore. Rose feels an overwhelming sense of irony. Then, also, anger. Her mother was deluded; everyone changes over time. What Jackie didn't understand, at least not then, was that the Doctor had become part of what made her Rose Tyler. Without him, she mused, examining her pale complexion, she was a ghost.
Without him…
His voice again, just her memory now, Rose Tyler… The words he didn't say creating a void in their absence. This void she had fallen into; so much more painful than that eternal vacuum between dimensions. So deep, dark and despairing. So inescapable. Rose cannot get out, so, she decides, all she can do is sink lower until there is nothing.
Helplessness and adrenaline combine and she grabs her water glass from the table and hurls it at the wall. It smashes, littering the carpet with shards, loud enough for people to hear, but she doesn't give a thought to if they did, or who. She acts quickly, not trusting herself, thinking she'll lose her nerve, and grabs the largest piece of glass she can see.
Rose swiftly stretches out her left arm, facing up, squeezes her eyes shut, grits her teeth, her heart pounding painfully against her chest, and slashes hard at lightning speed. It slices and sears and she gasps, but it is releasing her from so many other pains. She doesn't open her eyes as she does it again and again. She doesn't count how many times. She doesn't want to imagine the pained, horrified expression that would be on his face; tears, pleading, " Rose…Oh God, please don't…"
A sob escapes her and she opens her eyes, even though she is blinded by tears, at the same time dropping the glass. The blood is pouring from her, drenching her, warm and slick. The scent of iron fills her nostrils and her head is clouding and spinning. Her wounds don't hurt anymore, but she feels cold and clammy and her energy is ebbing away, suddenly oh so quickly. Rose's knees hit the floor and she collapses. She cannot hear her own gasped breaths for the roaring in her ears and her eyes only register a blur. This is it. All the thoughts and pain will be over soon. Feelings of guilt and regret are only momentary.
As her world turn to black, Rose sees the Doctor's face, smells apple grass, and hears the pounding of someone running…
An eternity away, one of the Doctor's hearts stops.