Rose walked slowly through the terraced garden behind the great house of the Tyler estate. Roses of every hue sent their soft fragrance through the close August air. But Rose barely noticed, as she was so intent on reaching the white gazebo sitting across the wide lawn near the start of the tree line. The afternoon was warm and still, but a storm was imminent. Rose could feel the telling ache in her knees, and she leaned more heavily on her carved walking stick. Anne, the Tyler's housekeeper, would probably scold her for risking getting caught in the rain. But Anne was a widow too, albeit a much younger one, and would understand her need to be in this place today. Rose reached the gazebo at last, navigated the two small steps to the screen door and slipped inside. She sank into the cushioned wicker love seat and closed her eyes. She could see him still, almost feel him there beside her. The Doctor in the latest version of his pinstriped blue suite, his hair silver, but still as thick and tousled as it ever was. She reached out her hand and could nearly feel his fingers curl around hers, just as they had that very last time, exactly one year ago today. A sudden cool breeze lifted Rose's soft white curls from the back of her neck. A shiver went through her as she struggled to stand and make her way back to the house. The storm was coming.
* * *
Meanwhile, on the top shelf of Rose's wardrobe, from a small drawer of a nearly forgotten jewelry box, a small blue light pulsed briefly, and then went still.
* * *
Rose sat in a small kitchen at a well polished oak table, enjoying an early supper. This was not the grand main kitchen from the estate's heyday. In fact, most of the house had been closed off. Rose now occupied the former butler's apartment which included this kitchen, a sitting room, and a bedroom. Rose had made it in before the rain, but now it could be heard lashing at the windows. A crash of thunder occasionally disturbed the cozy room. Anne, a small, energetic woman in her mid-sixties bustled about near the sink, washing up and putting things away.
"I'll be off in a few minutes then," said Anne drying her hands. "Daniel is picking me up to take me to Zachary's orchestra concert."
"Daniel's a good son to you Anne," said Rose with a trace of sadness.
"Yes, that he is," she said smiling proudly. "Now remember, I'm staying over with them, and I won't be back until about ten tomorrow. Can you manage your own breakfast?"
"Sure, I think I'll make chips."
"Rose," said Anne with mock disapproval, "chips for breakfast!"
"Why not? You only live once . . . thankfully."
Anne came over to sit in the chair kitty-corner from Rose. "Oh my dear, I'm sorry to be leaving you alone tonight, today of all days."
"It's all right Anne. We went over this already. I will not let you miss your one-and-only grandson's big night. Besides, I've had my time to remember, and feel a little sorry for myself. And now I'm fine. I'm just going to sit and watch the storm for awhile, and then go straight to bed. I won't get into any trouble, promise," Rose said with a smile.
Anne gave Rose's hand a squeeze. Beethoven's Ninth Symphony began playing from under the table. "Oh, that'll be Daniel." Anne took a phone from her pocket and flipped it open. "Hello? . . . All right. See you in a minute." She stood up, put the phone in her pocket, and looked back at Rose. "He's parked on the side drive. I'll just go collect my things and be off. There's tea waiting in the sitting room."
"Thanks Anne. Have a good time."
"Good night, dear. See you tomorrow." Anne left the kitchen, her shoes clicking down the hall.
Rose finished supper, found the walking stick, and slowly brought her dishes to the sink. Thunder rumbled as she walked down the short hall to the sitting room. She took a seat in a comfortable chair facing a small bay window. She could just see the edge of the gazebo from here. The trees behind it swayed erratically in the wind. "No stars tonight," murmured Rose. She remembered how in those early years, she and the Doctor had lay on the wide lawn, searching the sky, making plans. When even damp grass had become too much of an adventure for their old bones, the Doctor had the retractable roof installed in the gazebo. From then on, they'd done their star gazing and reminiscing in comfort.
Rose was just about to pour some tea when the doorbell rang, sounding like a solemn grandfather clock announcing the top of the hour. Surprised that anyone coming to see her would bother to use the formal front door, Rose made her way through the kitchen, down the hall and out into cathedral ceilinged entry way, turning on lights as she went. An electric feeling of expectation washed over her as she reached the door and pulled it slowly open. She squinted into a blinding light and could just make out the dark silhouette of a tall man with familiar tousled hair, blowing in the wind.
"Rose?" he said tentatively.
"Doctor!" responded Rose excitedly, then added quietly "I've died then."
"What?"
"And here you are to lead me to the bright light, just like in all the stories!" she exclaimed. Just then, she looked down at her wrinkled hand still clutching the walking stick. Her brow furrowed, "But why am I still old?"
"Rose, can I come in?"
"Sure," Rose murmured distractedly, taking a few steps back to let him in.
The Doctor stepped in, shut the door and leaned against is briefly. Straightening up with renewed energy, the Doctor explained, "First of all, Rose Tyler, you are very much alive. That was not the light of heaven, but a searchlight from an alien ship, looking for me. Long story." Taking a step toward Rose, "Now, how about you and I----"
But Rose cut him off, "You've come forward in time then."
The Doctor gave her a quizzical look.
"You must have timed it extremely well. I don't ever remember you going off without me."
"Rose . . ." said the Doctor tenderly as he took another step and entered the circle of light cast by the crystal chandelier.
Rose began to tremble. She reached out her hand and touched the Doctor's sleeve. "Oh my God! Is that suit brown?" The walking stick clattered on the marble floor. The Doctor lunged forward to catch the barely conscious Rose in his arms.