There was the sweat on her brow; the quiver reappeared on her lip. It had been the 53rd day. The flashing lights, the most tremendous memory and yet the most gut wrenching moment had been burned into her every waking moment. The rift was so beautiful. There were colors emulating from it that her pale blue almost crystal like eyes had never seen. Never had there been a violet that matched what Rose had seen in that rip. The beauty was misleading, it wasn't meant to induce the awe and shock, that which is comparable to the eyes of a three year old on Christmas morning, but it did.

He knew what it meant; he knew the darkness that it would cause in him. The pain and suffering that he could never walk away from. But he knew that it was why he traveled; he lived for these moments; earth shattering, dimension tearing, timey wimey wibbly wobbly moments like the one before him. It was what he was always searching for, and yet this one would always stick like a splinter in the bottom of his heel. It would be one of the last times that he would see her and he still was taken aback by the pure beauty the rift had created.

The man who had gone to the end of the universe and back, the man she loved was gone. She knew better than to say forever, she learned better than to say things like that. He never did, whenever he ended something he always left the possibility for just a bit more. She could hear him ringing in the happier memories, looking up slightly puzzled on how to answer the question, twitch his nose back and forth, fuss with his glasses and reply, "Well….not really…sorta…maybe". That mad man and his blue box, he had goodbye in his eyes. He had never again written on his face. She was certain that this was indeed the ending.

The dream was the constant reminder of the last time she saw him. He was gone he could never come back, a concept that she still could not understand yet. A year had come without the slightest excitement it was a damn normal day. The bakeries were putting out new buns, and the pubs served brew just like they always do. People were just mucking about completely unaware of the mad man who had saved them, and his absence from their lives, and Rose couldn't blame them. Part of her wished she could forget all that she had seen. To be normal again, working in a shop and going to the pubs at night not thinking about what is out past their atmosphere. To not be wondering what he is doing where or even when he has found himself. But a better part of her knew that without him, without that time in the TARDIS Rose would not be the person who she had become. She had become something, The Bad Wolf, she felt that without him in her life she would have become just another oaf mucking away. The Doctor had made certain that she would never ever feel that way, and maybe that was for the best. That was the struggle her mind struggled with every day.

But before you leave the story, before you write it off as another hopeless romantic story it isn't. This is the story of the day after he came back.

She still was not certain on how it happened. It was him; only human, the concept had not sunk in fully. It did not matter he was there with her and that was all that mattered.

That night he had stayed with her, she could hear his heart beating a constant singular thump in her ear. She did not know what this meant, they were together and that part had never been this uncomplicated, but she had all but shut down when he left.

She had not adjusted to her new world; her life had been getting him back. It had been 53 days in the time line of Pete's world.

That part was still new to her as well, her dead dad had now become part of her life, alternate dimensions had their perks and she was not able to be happy about it until now. Her mum was going to have a baby, and was absolutely reveling in raising this child with her husband. What she had hoped to do with Rose, before he was taken from her. Ordinarily one would find jealousy ensuing that her brother would be able to have his mum and dad around his whole life, but this Rose was not bothered by. She had her dad now, and finally things seemed to be meshing rather well for her. Rose was happy; she could start to live again. What kind of life she hadn't the slightest idea and that thought alone was the most familiar thing she had felt in a while. Not knowing what would happen next, where she would go or what she will do. That slight comfort was that of an old worn school sweater comforting and decipherable.

No more searching for him, but back to normal, could that in fact actually happen.

Did she want that to happen? No, normal didn't ever suit her; she was 19 when the Doctor arrived but she had been living this life enough to know she did not want to stop. The Doctor and Rose back traveling. Well that part would have to be figured out on the way; his specialty.

She crawled out of her cot and into her dressing robe; she wandered her eyes upon her Doctor who lay sprawled out rather childlike. She can't remember if she had ever seen him rest so peacefully, her memory dwindled back to when he regenerated and she was so lost and confused and absolutely terrified. He may have been peaceful then, however the circumstances do not allow for her to remember it that way. Rose found herself gawking at him; she quickly adjusted her stance and looked in the mirror. She looked like she had just gone through hell and back, and that was not an inaccurate presumption, never the less, she tiptoed to the Lou and cleaned up. She could not remember the last time that she put on makeup that early, but as she applied it she felt the butterflies in her stomach. Pure excitement, romance was a new thing for them but excitement and adventure was where their relationship was grounded.

She began to wander the house. Its size still bothered her. It was at least ten times the size of the flat she grew up in. The grand entrance, the foyer as her dad called it was so gawk inducing, a sight right out of a magazine. Her bare feet and thin pajamas made her feel so under dressed in this room. As she mucked about she grabbed his coat, hanging on the coat rack by the front door. Breathed in the scent of no cologne, actually she had not a clue what the smell was or why it attracted her so but it was sweet and refreshing. Upon further examination of the coat it was dingy, dusty and that was apparent when she moved it. A cloud of thick dirt and dust emanated from it, making her cough and then begin to choke. The choking caused her to laugh not because she fancied the lack of oxygen but how typical of the Doctor, the most adept and able man and his clothing were dirty as sin. She adjusted the coat and felt its weight; it was much heavier than any old suit jacket should be. Rose reached into the pocket and there it was. Well, there something was. It was blue and slightly worn, it reminded her of a scale off of a fish, it was about 30 cm by 25 cm. She pulled it out and a light blinded her and she was in the TARDIS it was the first time she had been there. It was bigger on the inside, the thought kept rolling about in her head, she remembered touching every instrument, tickling the railings. The light was blinding her just enough that she could just make out what was in front of her, she was fumbling around like one of those blind mice. She remembered the arches and the stunning color of the interior of the TARDIS, all of the sound was mute as if she had just been in an explosion sort of muffled and inaudible. But as soon as it had come, it left fleeting like a shooting star.

"What in the bloody hell?"