She was lying in pool of never-light, contemplating the always.
Rose Tyler never did see the allure of a job in a shop on an English street. Too musty, and boring; not any fun at all.
Fun. That's what awaited Rose at the end and beginning of everything that ever was, is, or will be.
The particular word- fun -meant something very different to Rosie dear than it meant to anyone else. Well, anyone else who had never before traveled with the Doctor.
Fun smelled of freedom, and chase given to the cosmos.
Fun tickled the edges of the Milky Way, spilled over so many void-stuffs and black holes in between.
Fun felt like lavender in a cup of tea on the planet of the hats, or daffodils growing on the edge of a cloud, faraway in Andromeda.
Fun was the way Rose saw the Universe, until it was all she could see.
No longer did she smell delight in an hourglass, no, Rose Tyler could see everything.
Rose could see Always.
Terrible, beautiful, spectacular, frightening, compulsive always could Rose see, and she couldn't look away.
While she was staring at a thousand burning stars, Rose thought she might hear the Doctor's voice, calling from afar.
Just faint, really, nothing much to pull on her subconscious, until she began to feel him too.
She began to wake up, and it hurt. It hurt so much, and she couldn't let go.
Rose was being stretched between the end of days and the Doctor, holding on so very tightly to the stars she passed along the way.
Dragged between my Doctor and a happy place, the way it always is for me, she thought as she died.
She was dying, she had to be. Nothing else could sear quite like this.
Just as her head had begun to snap away from reality into the cool, calm bliss of death, the pain stopped.
Pain, stoppered in a bottle, replaced by a kiss.
Rose awoke in the arms of her Doctor, having life breathed in and out of her.
Today, Rose awoke and the Doctor died in the space between time.
In the space between worlds, fun was gone, and Rose Tyler came back to life.
