A saviour, a rescuer, a hero.

'Where is it? Where is it? I know it's here somewhere! I was reading it just the other day!' The Doctor exclaimed, not talking to anyone in particular, because there was no-one to talk to.

Well no-one except me of course. Although technically I'm not a human being, I'm not even a person. Who am I you may ask? I am the TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimension In Space, or the Doctor's trusty spaceship for those who are confused right now! Oh and just to inform you, the Doctor is not human either. To look at, he could easily be mistaken for a human being, an extremely attractive, unbelievably intelligent, amazingly fantastic, rather talkative human, but a human none-the-less. But the Doctor is not a human, and would be immensely insulted if it were ever suggested, which has actually happened more times than can be cared to recall, for the Doctor is a Time Lord. The last of the Time Lords to be exact, well in this Universe anyway, but that's a different story for another time.

Anyway, back to the original thread of this rather tangled web. The Doctor is a Time Lord, and spends his days travelling through time and space saving helpless planets and unsuspecting people, by people I mean both human and alien. However, recently he hasn't been the same, ever since that fateful day in Torchwood London. It pains me to even think about it, and I didn't actually see it happen. I was there, but in one of the vaults below. In some ways I'm glad that I did not witness the death of my beloved Doctor, but other times, it feels like we no longer have that untainted connection. Although, how can anything ever be the same again? I think that day has got to be one of the darkest in both of our long lives. It's hard to believe that the day started the same as any would with a visit back to Earth.

The Powell Estate was just as we had left it, whenever that would have been! The Doctor always did try and prevent having to return there, but he didn't really have any choice back then, especially not when a certain mother was being as persistent as ever to see her only child, well at the time she was an only child. Wonder if she still is. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the Powell Estate and a persistent mother! And then of course the Ghosts. Do I really have to go over everything that happened there? I'm sure you know about it all, and if you don't, I don't want to be the one that fills your life with sadness. Anyway, that day the Doctor gave up something he loved, only for it to be returned and snatched away again. This something was a human child by the name of Rose.

Now many humans are ordinary and go about their lives in the same monotonous pattern, which I'm sure would have been the fate for dear Rose if not for the Doctor and one simple word 'RUN!' Who would have thought that two lives could have been saved by the feel of someone's hand in their own and the exclamation of a simple word? Well that was what happened to the Doctor and Rose. Rose Marian Tyler was anything but ordinary. Her enthusiasm for life, her taste for adventure and her rather domestic approach to saving all enabled her to be a match for the Doctor. Granted she was not the most intellectual companion that has stepped through those doors into the Doctor's life, but she was by far the most brilliant! And the one most deserving of the Doctor's hearts, for she in return loved him more than anything, or anyone else. I've lost count of the number of times she has saved him, and in conjunction me, both willingly and unconsciously. When they first met, he was a broken man. Broken from the loss of all he knew and loved, broken by the destruction of the Time War, broken by the knowledge that he was all alone in the Universe, but she saved him, by holding his hand in return and running along beside him. Never will I forget the Doctor's face when he came through those doors after the fall of Arcadia, but I will always remember the way she made him more alive than ever before. I will always be eternally indebted to Rose for that fact, for saving the Doctor.

But as I'm sure you would have realised this loss affected the Doctor and myself ever greater than the effects of the Time War, which I never thought possible. For months, possibly years, the Doctor worked tirelessly to get his Rose back, but to no real avail. His last chance was a small hole in the fabric of time and space, a tiny gap in the breach between the two Worlds. I tried so hard to make it bigger, but the only way we could have gotten Rose back would be to cause the collapse of two universes. 'So?' was the reply from both the Doctor and Rose when each were informed, and it was my own thought, but we all three knew it wasn't going to happen. The short time they had to say goodbye to each other will haunt me for eternity. But as always, they were separated before the truth could be expressed. A Time Lord ran out of time. The Oncoming Storm and Bad Wolf, never to see each other, never able to fulfil their destiny, never allowed to live, for one can not live without the other.

What pains me also was the fact that we were not given the chance to grieve or reflect, as once again we were called upon to save the World and the life of someone else.

But now, now I think we need to go and save someone, because we can not save ourselves. 3 years we have been alone, just floating around in the Time Vortex. I don't think the Doctor has even slept or eaten since the separation in Canary Wharf, and has rarely spoken since the events of Bad Wolf Bay. For once in my life, I feel totally useless. There is nothing I can do to ease this pain we are both feeling. I know you are probably thinking, it's been three years, surely that's enough time to get to grips with what's happened and try to rebuild your life and move on. But move on to what? Saving the World again? Alone?

Looking at the Doctor, I wouldn't be surprised if we stayed here forever. I've only seen the Doctor really lose it a few times, expressing a few tears, shouting at the top of his voice for his lost love, shaking uncontrollably for the one whose hand fits into his own. I would prefer that to the silence and slow death of my Doctor. We are all the other has, and it kills me to see him like this. Take now for instance, he's tearing through the Library searching for a poetry book. I think I know which one and which poem in particular. For some reason, the only way he seems to be at peace is when he's reading poetry, curled up in Rose's room.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

One day he might be able to accept the facts and become what Rose would want him to be. A saviour, a rescuer, a hero. But for now, I'll leave him reading his poems, dying for the love he lost, hoping against hope that someday, somehow, they will be back together. The Oncoming Storm and Bad Wolf, the stuff of legend, the Doctor and his Rose.