The 20th of August has been a holiday in the UK for eight years now. In 2007 on this day, the lasts of John Lumic's crazy creations were destroyed, after months of terror. Since then, this day became the day of both grief and joy in the country. The people were grieving for the ones they lost –even for the ones they didn't know- then celebrated the ones that lived.

It was a rainy Sunday in London, the kind of, that makes even the most cheery people depressive. It was like the weather was trying to symbolise what the day meant to the humanity. The clouds on the sky weren't even the normal almost black ones that meant a storm was approaching; they were boring ugly-gray. The sunlight was dimmed by them, and it made the whole city look almost colorless. The streets were empty, the people preferred to stay inside their homes, sipping hot cocoa in front of the telly.

The only ones not doing the same as the majority of London were the workers of Torchwood Institute. The employees were on constant alert, because the aliens that wanted to invade their beloved planet weren't the kind that would postpone an attack just because the humans wanted a lazy day.

On the 35th floor of the Tower six agents were bending over their respective projects, trying to figure out riddles, equations or other various problems. For example, Mickey Smith, the head of the computer technicians was working on an alien virus with the help of an other scientist. Or to be more specific, he was trying to figure out how it worked, so the Institute could use it when the situation called for it.

At another table Jake Simmonds was going over last month's alien sightings, in order to find a connection between the attacks that happened at the last week.

In the next room dr. Alan McGill, a physicist in his late forties, was checking out the latest reports of the Cardiff branch about the increasing rift-activity.

In the third office Pete Tyler was typing up the reports he had to send to the president in every month. Every now and then he would pause, and would write something on the post-it notes he kept near his compter. The notes were about the things he had to do for his little girls' birthday party. Like getting party-hats, plastic plates (so the kids couldn't accidentally break it), ordering a cake –Jackie protested, saying that she's more than capable of baking it, but Pete pointed out, that there'd be about fifteen kids, so there is no way he could do enough for them. In the end they agreed, that they'd have an other celebration, just with the family, and Jackie'd make her world famous chocolate cake for the occassion.

In the fourth lab Rose Tyler was trying to solve an ancient alien text carved into stone, wich was found in South-Wales the previous week. She didn't find it hard to translate the writing; the code it was written in was her real problem. She already ruled out at least twenty patterns, but was still at square one.

For five years now, Rose had been working for the Institute as a linguist. It was her job to translate everything the agents brought in. Occassionally she was to go with the teams, and in her opinion these missions worth every hour she spent behind a desk. She very good at her job, thanks to the years she spent with the Doctor travelling, back in her old universe. Somehow the ability of understanding every language didn't vanish over the years. Or at least that's what she told her worrying mother. If it was the truth, Mickey should've been able to understand these things too. Only Rose knew the whole story, about the Bad Wolf. It wasn't the TARDIS that gave her the ability, or at least, not anymore. It was the Time Vortex, or to be specific, its remnants in Rose. The Doctor –and for a while Rose too- always thought that he removed all, but he was wrong. A tiny little bit remained, making itself a part of Rose. And after five years, Rose truly understood, what it meant feeling the Earth rushing beneath her feet, and knowing what it was, what it is, and what ever could be. This time the knowledge wasn't overhelming, like it was on the Gamestation; it was just there, popping up when she needed it; it was somehow dormant.

After spending three hours straight bent over a piece of stone without any achievment, Rose was getting frustrated. She knew she'd start slamming things in any minute, so she decided to take a little break. She went to get herself a large mug filled with tea, then she sliced some cake –remained there after Mickey's birthday two days ago-, and sat down to eat it. After three minutes she saw his ex-boyfriend walking in, accompanied by Jake.

"Hey guys," she greeted.

"Hello, Rose," said Jake, and Mickey nodded. He spent last night in his office working, so he was more than tired. He was exhausted.

"How is the virus?" asked Rose from Mickey.

"I can't figure it out. Every time I crack a code, there are two other in its place. This one is gonna be my death," he answered, "And how are the riddles?"

"I'm stuck. I can translate the text, but I can't find its logic. All I know, that it's some kind of prophecy, or at least looks like one.But without the pattern, the whole thing is like a ramblings of an eight years old on crack," she whined.

"Are you sure it's not written by an underage druggie?" joked Jake, then turned serious when Rose glared at him, "Ok, bad joke. But here is an idea. Stop looking at it like a linguist. I mean, if it looks like a druggie wrote it, it must be write about some monumental, grand event," Rose nodded, the text was a description of a couple of rather abstact scenes, "Right, then try to imagine it. Associate it with things you know, thing that may look like that."

"Wow Jake. I didn't know you could be that deep," mocked Mickey..

"Shut up," came Jake's reply, then he turned to Rose, "So, what do you think?"

No answer came. By this time Rose wasn't listening to them. She did as Jake told her. To her suprise, it actually worked. She could see it before her eyes, and it terrified her. The description matched the one she saw in 1987, when she saved her Dad. The coming of the reapers. But that didn't make sense. The reapers meant paradoxes, and paradoxes meant the end of the world. The text couldn't be about it, because the world just wouldn't exist if it happened. She quickly recited the remaining part of the writing, searching for something that'd explain it. But she couldn't come up with anythin that'd explain the text's red cannibal beast, that'll lead he monsters to devour the world. She snapped out of her musings by the feel of Mickey's elbow connecting with her side.

"Ouch," she exclaimed, then swatted her friend on the arm, "What the hell was that for?"

"You were zoning out. Does that mean that you find the answer?" he asked.

"Maybe. If what Jake says is right, it might be about a paradox," she answered.

"But doesn't that equals the end of the world?" asked Jake.

"It does," replied Rose grimly, "But it's just a theory, so let's not panic."

After a couple of minutes the boys went back to their office, leaving Rose alone. She was staring out at the clouds, what seemed to be a little dfferent than usual. She couldn't explain why she felt that way about them, so she just thought it's because of the exhaustion. She quickly dismissed her thoughts, replacing them with fantases about sunshine and beaches. She was so deep in her daydream, that she didn't even notice that she walked out of the little kichen, going back to her office. She was clearly shocked, when she found herself back behind her desk.

She worked on her project for an other couple of hours, finally stopping when the clock on her desk emitted a loud sound, signing that it was already seven o'clock, time to go home. She packed her stuff, this time not even reluctantly, knowing that she couldn't concentrate anymore. She walked out of her office, toward Pete's, knowing that his clock also notified him about the time. She walked in without knocking, and found him already packing. She cleared her throat. Pete turned around and smiled at her.

"What happened? Is the world coming to an end?" he asked teasingly, "It must be something serious that makes you leave the tower before midnight."

"No, the world is safe. I'm only stuck and tired," she replied.

"Ok, let's go. I assume you come and have dinner with us."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"Then what are we waiting for," exclaimed Pete, then opened the door for his daughter, "Just after you, ..er….," he stopped, suddenly not remembering.

"Rose. My name is Rose," she told him, clearly hurt, but worried, that he forgot it.

"I know. I just…..I don't know…..couldn't say it. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't remember corrctly. I'm sorry darling," he said, truly confused, what just happened.

"It's ok. Happens to the best of us," she answered, not completely assured.

After that they got home without any more incidents. When they arrived, Jackie already set the table, and collected her two youngest kids to the table. Susan and Sarah Tyler were already four years olds, and their favourite game was hiding their parents' things –like keys, IDs, and in Jackie's case jeweleries. They were two little bundles of energy, so it was a pleasant suprise for the newcomers to see them sitting at the dinner table. Soon Jackie came in too, and after everybody seting down, they began to eat.

During dinner they were chatting about little nothings, like weather, the neighbour's new dog, the food. After a while they were talkin about the next month, which several birthdays took place in. Pete's was on the third, the twins' on the 16th,

"…and Rose's on the….er…"

"On the 18th, Mum," helped Rose, hurt for the second time that evening.

"Yeah. I don't know what came over me," tried to explain Jackie.

The atmosphere after that was rather strained, so Rose left early. On her way home she was still fuming, cursing everyhing she could think of. When she reached her flat and calmed down, she began worrying. Her own parents forot things like these. She wasn't big fan of the conspiracy theories, but she couldn't help, she was suspicious. What if somethig or somebody was messing with their heads.

She tried to think back to her travels, trying to remember any race that could cause this. She didn't find any, so she was concentrating to the vortex inside her, searching for aliens. After a while she came up with several suspect, but they've never were at this part of the universe. She tried not to think about it more, and with that thought she went to bed.

MW-MW-MW-MW-MW-MW-MW-MW

In the next weeks the events continued. Several coworkers forgot her name, who she was, or lately her whole existence. Her family and close friends showed the signs too. They called her wrong names –when they remembered at all-, forgot her birthday, events of her life.

But the most disturbing thing was that she was forgetting too. Dates, memories, things from her own life. Her little episodes came more recently too. Like when in one moment she was in her room, in the next she was standing in the kitchen, without remembering to go there.

After these weeks she built up the courage to go to the infirmary to ask the doctor about her condition. Of course it was only possible after reminding dr. Carla Raines who she was. The woman sent her to various tests and examinations, but they couldn't find anything wrong.

Three days after the tests Rose got a message from dr. McGill, that she is needed in his office. When she got there, Mickey, Jake, Jackie and Pete were already there.

"What's going on?" she asked, confused why the others were there.

"I think I know what's going on with you," informed her Alan.

"And?" she inquired.

"It looks like you slowly cease to exist. Everybody's memories are disappearing about you, and even you started to forget yourself."

"Ok. I already knew that. The quiestion is, how are we gonna turn everything back to normal?" she asked, not bothering to hid the panic in her voice.

"We can't."