The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don't always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.
-Doctor, Vincent and the Doctor
I just want you to know, there are worlds out there. Safe in the sky because of her. That there are people living in the light and singing songs of Donna Noble. A thousand, million light years away. They will never forget her, while she can never remember. But for one moment... one shining moment... she was the most important woman in the whole wide universe.
-Doctor, Journey's End
Chapter 2: Interlude
Jake looked down over Manhattan morosely. He sat on the top of a towering building. The smashed remains of gargoyle statues surrounded him, but he couldn't care less. In fact, Jake found he couldn't care about anything right now.
He was completely numb. That was the only thing he could feel at the present moment; nothing. But no; that wasn't true. A deep ache had settled in his chest, a burning pain that had solidified sometime between the last few hours. His eyes burned with tears as his mind ruthlessly forced him to replay the last few hours over and over.
In his minds eye, he saw Rose, his strong, ever brave Rose, rising above him, face serene and unafraid. He heard her words to him, 'It's going to be okay, Jake.'
But it wasn't, was it? Rose was dead. He had failed; he had said his wish too late. She was dead, and it was all his fault. If he had just kept a closer eye on her, not even gotten involved in the first place, maybe even let her slay him and become a true Huntsgirl, she wouldn't be dead right now.
He had screamed in utter devastation and denial; he remembered that much. He also remembered taking his dragon form and flying off furiously through the starry sky. He had flown around, his wings automatically taking him to his -their- old haunts. The big apple tree in Central Park, the secluded alley behind his house, the field he had ran with her in.
The tears blurred his vision as he remembered; why couldn't the memories just go away? He didn't want to remember her, because it hurt too much. He didn't remember touching ground or resuming human form, huddling under the old climbing tree behind Rose's apartment, or what used to be, anyway. He didn't remember crying until his eyes were puffy and his throat was sore. And he certainly didn't remember flying up to her window, stealing her diary from its innocent place on her pillow, and flying out with it.
His memory was completely blurred until he found himself back at the place it had all taken place. The Pantheon Building.
The structure was deserted as Jake sat on the edge, his legs hanging over the side. The diary was lying feet away, its childlike cover almost seeming to glare at him. The pink cover with the sparkles that was not remotely like Rose at all. He knew very well her favorite colors were forest green and deep sky blue. She hated pink (1), so why she had a sparkly pink diary he would never know.
He suddenly felt the burning desire to rip it to pieces, to rid himself of the last piece of her he had. But he couldn't; it was all that was left.
He found a pen in his pocket: Where had that come from?
It didn't matter, really.
He grabbed the diary and turned to a blank page. All his thoughts poured out onto that page, the page no one would ever read. His grief and anger, his self-loathing and hatred towards the Huntsclan, and his love for Rose. He had been kidding himself the whole time. He had thought he knew what love was. But he didn't. He hadn't known until this.
He hadn't really known was love was until she was gone. Love was the pain eating a hole in his chest because he could never see her again. Love was the feeling he'd never be happy again, because there was nothing to be happy for. If love was smiling simply because she walked in the room and he knew she was alive, then he was deeply in love.
But it's not much use now, he thought bitterly, to know that. Because she's gone, and I never got a chance to tell her.
He wiped his eyes furiously, as they had begun to water again. Why? Why her? Why couldn't it have been him? He deserved to die so much more than she did. But he hadn't. He had lived, and she had died, and now he had to live with the guilt and the pain.
But then he thought of all the things he and Rose had done together. The strolls in Central Park, fighting side-by-side when the Huntsclan wasn't looking, the blissful hours just talking about anything and everything. He wished he could have had more of those times, instead of all the secrecy and whispered words.
Jake would remember Rose, even if no one else did. He would remember the girl whose wit and charm more than matched her beauty. Cliché, but he felt it was true. He would remember the girl who he would risk life and limb for, the one he would do anything to avoid seeing her hurt. He would remember a fierce girl who never took anything standing down, who usually spoke her mind when something bothered her. He would remember the way she looked at him as he held her tight underneath that apple tree.
But most of all, he would remember her touch and her words. Everything she'd ever said, every touch. He would never forget, because forgetting meant his Rose would fade into nonexistence. She would literally cease to be, and no one would ever remember what she had done for the world.
His pen stopped printing words, and Jake was startled to see he'd written more than a page and a half.
He carefully closed the book and set it next to him, staring unseeing down at the pavement below.
Jake sat there for half an hour, contemplating. He finally rose, his stiff muscles wincing in protest, but he took no notice. He carefully, almost lovingly, picked up the book and cradled it in his arms. It was all he had left of her, but he wouldn't keep it; he couldn't.
He silently changed and flew back to Rose's apartment. He opened the window up, hesitated, and then set the book down gently.
His resolve almost faltered, but he shook his head and turned away, his eyes burning once more. He silently closed the window and flew off into the night.
Later, he would realize that it had worked and she was alive, living a life without him and without the Huntsclan marring her life. She would have lived her life happily with the parents she had never known. And she would never know anything about their life together, about how much he loved her and how much it hurt to let her go.
(1) I know very well she wears pink in the series, but I wish to take creative license here.
Reviews are love, and love means more care going into my writing.
~Aubrey
