"I'm going out, John!" Rose called, brushing her blonde hair away from her eyes.

"Oy! Be back in time for supper!" She heard him call from the kitchen.

She shook her head, smiling, as she grabbed her jacket from the rack, leaving the flat they were renting out.

It had been five years.

Five years since Rose last saw him

Five years since she had started dating John.

Five years since she had been married.

Five years.

But she heard him in his sleep.

Muttering about stars, and planets.

Often, she'd see him looking wistfully out the window, as if in an entirely different world.

A world where he was still running around, flying the blue box, and seeing the universe.

And it hurt her.

It hurt her to see the sadness, and longing in his eyes.

But most of all, she knew it hurt him

It hurt him to see the longing in her eyes.

The longing for the version of him that had two hearts.

That had given her the universe in the version of a key.

The version she fell in love with.

And that was why she took these walks.

So she could reflect on these times.

So she could pretend, even for a second, that all was right.

That The Doctor would pick her up in his TARDIS, and they would fly away.

That John Smith wasn't waiting for her.

But, she knew, no matter how hard she dreamt, the walls of the universe had sealed around them.

These were the thoughts she reflected upon as she jogged along the path, the sound of the TARDIS ringing in her memory, as if she had just heard it yesterday.

That's why, when she first saw the hint of grimey blue, she simply brushed it off as memory.

However, as she jogged closer, she realized, it wasn't memory.

Her legs felt like lead, and her heart sped up. Her stomach did somersaults and her mind seemed to race with questions.

how?

Why?

When?

And more specifically,

What happened?

She had slowed considerably.

The steps she took towards the foreign, yet oh so brilliantly familiar box, were cautious.

As if she was scared it was a trap.

As if she was worried something would jump out from inside it.

And with good reason.

Leaning against a tall moss-covered old oak, Was a box. What Once a brilliant yet dull blue, was now covered in dirt,and dust.

The sign on the door that read "public call box, pull to open." Was yellowed, instead of the fresh white she remembered.

The windows she recalled cleaning (in fact, she could still feel the texture under her fingers) was covered in years worth of grime, and filth.

One of the doors was opened inwards slightly , and crooked on it's hinges.

Moss encircled the once beautiful wood, claiming it as it's own.

Rose let out a breath.

It was old. Abandon. And left in a state of decay.

She wasn't sure what she was scared of more.

The idea that she was seeing things, or the reality that what she was seeing was, indeed, real.

His voice rang in her mind, as she took a step forward.

"let the TARDIS die. Just let this old box gather dust. No one can open it. No one will even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world will move on and the box will be buried."

And, he had been right. No one noticed it.

It had become a part of nature.

She slowly rested a hand on the texture of the wood, as a sob bubbled up, escaping from her mouth.

She felt a crushing sadness consume her. Her legs shook, as she pushed the slightly open door, all the way open.

It creaked loudly.

Her steps were automatic.

One foot in front of the other.

As she walked to the console, placing her hands on it.

What usually hummed with energy, was silent.

Covered in dust the doctor would never allow.

The room was cold.

Empty.

Dark.

And, dead.

Rose felt her legs collapse under her, her knees hitting the cold floor first, before falling to the side slightly, sitting, her hands on the dead console.

She felt her shoulders shake, her chest heave, and her soul itself cry out, as she allowed herself to do the one thing she hadn't in oh so very long.

Rose, The Bad Wolf, and the doctors love, sat there, in the empty tomb, surrounded by dead machinery and long-passed whispers of another time. And she cried.