A/N: I am stunned by the reception that I got from the last chapter. I struggle when it comes to writing really heavy emotions (I always seem to rush toward levity instead), so I am glad ... so glad .. that I managed to pull it off this time around!

Thank you so much!

This chapter is a little of the same, although I'm not sure if it is as emotionally heavy as the previous one. It's fairly short by my usual standards. I didn't want to drag this out any more than it needed to be - but I didn't think that I could ignore it completely.

We return to Earth next chapter and revisit a rather morose and unhappy Lucifer ... The Doctor and Rose make him an offer he'd be a fool to refuse... I can't wait to write it!

Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

~~oooOOOooo~~

The whistle of winds through silver-leafed trees and tall expansive mountain ranges was a far cry from the haunting song that curled around the twin towers that stood tall, mysterious and alone on Darillium.

On Darillium the song had been somewhat mournful; a beautiful sound of lilting tones in a rising/falling tenor that wordlessly spoke of love and pain. The chittering accompaniment of the birds was nature's percussion, and as a symphony the sounds wove together in a tapestry so majestic that it could make you cry.

On Gallifrey, the sounds were more cheerful. Rose would describe it more as the tinkling of piano keys and wind chimes. Oh there was an undertone of melodic humming as the winds blew down the mountains and across the red grasses that provided adequate melancholy and reflection in the song. Rose figured that in order to fully comprehend the more devastating song of the landscape that one would need to be inside the deepest throes of misery, because the happy tinkling and chittering overtones certainly did their best to overpower anything else.

Rose took a small moment to wonder if anyone on this planet had ever put lyrics to nature's song. She could imagine herself or her daughter taking time to do just that, and then lay back on the grass, look into the burnt orange sky and sing the song of Gallifrey to the heavens above them.

"You agree, too, don't you Doctor," she said quietly as she looked down and stroked the cool face of her husband laid out in robes of crimson and gold atop a grandiose funeral pyre. "Although it was always you and Lizzie making up stupid songs for every stilly little thing the two of you got up to."

She waited for him to smile and agree with her like he normally would when she queried his antics with their children. She wanted to hear that soft chuckle. She wanted him to wake up and let her know that this was all just a horrible dream, that he wasn't really gone.

Part of her wanted to pound angrily at his chest and demand that he wake back up. She wanted to scream and beg and cry and accuse him of betraying the vows he'd made to her when they married; vows of never leaving her; of sharing the rest of their respective forevers together.

But she couldn't do that to him. He couldn't fight the inevitability of death no matter what promises he'd made to her. Although he constantly blamed himself, it wasn't his fault that her own forever had become so much longer than either of them had anticipated. It wasn't his fault that she was to take on the burden of the Time Lords that he'd carried on his shoulders for so long…

She was the one who looked into the heart of the TARDIS – not him. She was the one who chose to inhale the entire vortex as the TARDIS travelled from one end of her time stream to another to save him.

"He's free now," a soft voice crooned with a Scottish lilt at her side. "And part of me …" he sighed. "Part of me is truly jealous of him right now."

Rose let a tear dribble down her cheek and let out a forced and tiny chuckle. "Don't lie," she managed quietly. "If your time was up, you'd be kicking and screaming and telling the universe that you still had so much more to do and so they could just sod off and let you do it."

"I didn't when I was him," the Doctor corrected softly as he placed his hand on his Meta Crisis' shoulder and squeezed gently. "He welcomed it, as I expect I will."

Rose snorted somewhat angrily. "Go back through his memories, Doctor," she half snarled. "He told me that you have them all now." She flicked her eyes up to him in challenge. "Look back and you'll see that when he first found out he was terminal he damn near lost his mind with anger at the universe over it."

"Only because it meant leaving you behind," he answered carefully. "You now own the curse of the Time Lords, Rose." His eyes hardened in warning when he saw her expression shift to make an argument. "Don't think I don't know everything about your new physiology."

She looked back toward her lifeless husband with eyes dried and locked on his aged and weathered face. "Of course you do."

"It's why he worked tirelessly to find a way back across the parallel to find me again."

"I know," she answered flatly.

"You shouldn't have to carry this burden by yourself," he continued. "He didn't want that."

"I'm not alone," she said softly. "I have the kids, and the three of us can be there for each other." She looked up toward the orange sky above them and chuckled wetly. "Hell, there's an entire planet of Time Lords now. Maybe I can make some friends and… and…" She hiccupped. "And maybe…" Her arms shifted to cross over her belly and she made an agonized sound as she contracted into herself and began to sob.

"What am I going to do without him?"

The Doctor stood still in place as he watched Rose fall apart in front of him. In his previous two incarnations – even as far back as three or four – he would have immediately lunged forward to pull her securely against his chest in comfort. It wouldn't have been a consideration. It would have been pure instinct, and he would have held her tightly within the circle of his arms to let her dissolve completely. He wouldn't have let her go until he was assured that she was no longer distressed and that she could stand on her own without faltering.

But that was so long ago for him now. He lost his desire to embrace and be held in return when he sneezed and became this new – and rather grumpy – man. His lack of desire for physical affection was so deeply ingrained within this old body of his, that he wasn't even sure that he'd know how to hold her properly if she did come seeking comfort from him. Even seeking out the memories of the comforts and affection that his Meta Crisis would offer her didn't give him much of a clue.

He hopelessly flapped his arms around and looked with terror from side to side to seek help from Rose's two children as his hearts flailed inside his chest at her sounds of distress. They were, unfortunately, at the base of the pyre standing with respect.

James encouraged him to comfort Rose with a nod of his head and a gesture of his hand toward his mother.

The Doctor shook his head with pleading. "I can't. I don't know-"

His words cut off with a cough of surprise as Rose's distressed body collided with his chest and she collapsed against him. Immediately his confusion fled and instinct took control. His arms quickly found their place around her shuddering back and his cheek pressed gently against her hair.

"I feel so lost," she sobbed into his chest. "I don't know what to do."

Her hands were balled into fists that bridged the space between her forehead and his chest, and the Doctor waited for her to begin pounding at him in frustration. The pounding didn't seem to come, but with the breath of her sobs panting sharply at his chest, she may as well have. He felt every sob as though it were a swinging strike into his hearts. Rather than pull back as his instinct demanded, his arms tightened around her. He curled around her; a protective Time Lord cocoon, and whispered gently into her hair. He spoke alien words of sympathy and apology and vows to help her find her way.

He wasn't going to leave her. Not now, and not ever again. Even if she completely rejected his affections and demanded that he leave; if he was to remain just a flash of colour in her peripheral vision, he'd ensure that he would always be at her beck and call no matter what.

A soft feminine voice called from beside them both.

"Mum?"

Rose sniffed deeply and nodded against the Doctor's chest. She inhaled though an open mouth and slowly pulled herself free of the Doctor's hold. There was an apology on her lips and tongue as she wiped at her eyes, but the Doctor held them in place with a touch of his thumb against her lips.

"I'm here for you, Rose." His eyes shifted up to look toward Liz. "And for them, too." His eyes fell to Rose once again. "You are not alone."

Rose bit at her lips and nodded slowly. She let her eyes fall slowly shut and petted lightly at his chest. "Thank you, Doctor. For everything," she whispered sadly. "But we'll be okay."

He captured her hand before she could pull away from him completely, and he held it against his chest in between his beating hearts.

"It's not up for negotiation, Rose," he said firmly, but in a soft tone of voice. "I know that you need time-"

Her indignant laugh cut his words, but he held her hand firmly against his chest. "Time. Right."

"And I'll give you all the time you need," he continued. His grip on her hand loosened when he was sure that she wasn't going to pull away from him. "But until then, like it or not, I'm going to be right here. Right by your side, helping you, James and Elizabeth though this."

"I'm not the first widow," she breathed out sadly. "And I certainly won't be the last."

"Rose…"

She sniffed in deeply through her nose and looked over her shoulder toward her husband lying so still and so cold on top of a bed of aromatic Gallifreyan wood. "We'll be okay, I think." Her eyes flicked toward her daughter and her expression softened into pride. "Won't we, Sweetheart?"

"Course we will, Mum," Liz answered quietly through a tender smile. "Always okay, us."

Familiar words brought a fresh wave of tears, and Rose dissolved once again. This time, when the Doctor offered support by wrapping his arms around her from behind, she didn't pull away from him. She closed her eyes and leaned backward, hugging the forearms that curled supportively around her belly.

"I loved him, Doctor," she managed weakly through her tears. "God, I loved him."

"And he loved you, too," he murmured against her ear. "So much. So very much."

He held her in silence for another short moment and then urged her to step forward with a light press of his chest against her back. "It's time to say goodbye, Rose. Go with Liz, and I'll get things started up here."

Rose nodded as she hugged herself and walked toward where her daughter stood at the Meta Crisis' side. Together the leaned forward to kiss his cheek, and then together they walked down the short set of stairs that led them off the pyre and down onto the grasses below.

The Doctor watched and waited for them to settle as a threesome at the base of the pyre and held his hands together to his front. He bowed his head with silent respect and then stepped slowly forward to look upon the man who had fiercely guarded and loved the women who held both of their hearts in her hands.

"She's a stubborn one, our Rose Tyler, isn't she?" he began with a smile. "Always fit to argue with us even when she knows we're right." He chuckled lightly. "Which is all the time, isn't it? Even when it isn't."

He moved a hand to touch at the Meta Crisis' shoulder. "I'll take care of them. All of them. I promise you."

He inhaled a deep breath and turned his head away as the smell of age and of death assaulted his senses. It took effort for him to turn back to take a last look at him. "Good bye brother."

He lifted his head to the magnificent beam of white light at the centre line between his planet's two suns; toward the converging power of two brilliant sources of light; and sent up a prayer toward the heavens.

He closed his eyes against the brilliant light and smiled as he extended his arms outward and loudly recited the Gallifreyan rites of homecoming for a fallen son. With flourish and theatrics that only his people were capable, the Doctor pulled a burning torch from a cradle and dropped it onto the pyre.

He stepped back as the entire bed was almost immediately engulfed in brilliant orange flames.

Rose watched with tears in her eyes and pain in her hearts as her husband's body suddenly burst into flame. Her focus on the orange and yellow flames were such that she didn't see the Doctor step away from the pyre and slowly make his way down the small stairs to stand at her side.

It wasn't until she felt the flicker of his fingers against hers – a request for their hands to come together – that she registered his presence. She didn't take his hand, but she didn't make any obvious moves to reject his advance completely. Instead, she kept her head high and let her hand hang limp at her side.

"Where does he go from here?" she asked quietly.

The Doctor rocked his head down to look at her. "This altar has been designed in such a way that the ashes of this pyre will automatically be scattered into the aqua-duct below. From there, the underground stream will meet with the Cadonflood river. His remains will end up scattered aalong the banks between here and Mount Lung." He lifted his chin to gesture toward the mountain towering above them. "That would be largest mountain in that range, and where Lungbarrow once stood."

"Lungbarrow?" she questioned gently without taking her eyes off the pyre. "The old family homestead."

"That's the one," he answered with a weak smile. "Although it was reseeded in a different location after the original home's destruction several centuries ago."

"Did it survive the war, you think?"

The Doctor's brows pinched together. "I. I hadn't even considered it. I've really only been back the one time, and I certainly didn't have the time or desire to go visit."

"I see," Rose whispered softly.

"The last time I was here," he began with curiosity in his tone. "Well. I'm not really sure exactly what the reason was, actually. I'm believe it was for a friend, although her name escapes me right now." He let out a breath. "I kept mainly to the drylands and the citadel."

Rose nodded, her eyes still on the flames that were flapping and snapping with the early evening breeze flowing across the grassy plain. "Do you want to go and see?" she offered softly. "Take the journey along the river bank that the Doctor will take and join him at Lungbarrow when he comes home?"

"If you go, Rose Tyler, then I will follow."

His twitching fingers found her hers and he tentatively took her hand in his. Finally, she turned toward him. She looked into his face, down to their joined hands, and then back up to meet his eyes.

"Do Time Lords believe in heaven and hell, Doctor?"

He tipped his head curiously at her. There was a brief flare in his eyes as he readied to scoff and tell her that his people didn't believe in anything so preposterous, but then he remembered the man in Los Angeles.

Heaven and Hell and the hope of eternity in paradise were ideals that were so important to Humans. And if it would ease her hearts a little, then he was willing to lie just a little.

"I've met the Devil," he said finally with a smile. "Quite an interesting fellow."

"On Krop Tor?" she asked with challenge in her eyes. "You told me that it wasn't the Devil."

He shook his head and smiled. "No. That wasn't the Devil," he confirmed. "Not even remotely close to the man who punishes the sinner and makes deals with the desperate." He sighed. "If you can believe it I had drinks with Lucifer in LA. He owns a club called Lux. He seemed to enjoy whiskey, and certainly took a shine to my friend Martha."

Rose licked at her lip and seemed to be fighting off another wave of emotion as her eyes looked back to the flaming pyre in front of them. "Sounds like…" She cleared her throat and winced as she spoke. "Sounds like an interesting person."

"I know that he told you about him," the Doctor warned her gently. He tapped at his temple to indicate his memory. "He mentioned it to you the day after Bad Wolf Bay. Right after he found the second heart beating inside your chest."

Rose nodded slowly. "I didn't believe him at first," she admitted. "It's just too mental to be true."

The Doctor smiled. "But now?"

"Oh, it didn't take long for me to realize that my entire life with you was mental. From living plastic, to gas ghosts, werewolves, farting aliens cosplaying humans and living things being turned into a child's drawing." She looked up and him with a wry smile. "If all that was true and I saw it for myself, then why couldn't I believe in the existence of Heaven and Hell, God and the Devil?"

"I always said you were brilliant," he breathed with genuine affection.

"You called me jeopardly friendly and an ape."

The Doctor's smile was small, yet reverent. "Would you like to meet him?" he queried curiously. "Lucifer, I mean."

Rose nodded slowly. "I would." She then shook her head. "But not right now." She inhaled deeply and looked toward the mountains. "I think. I-I think me and the kids should stay here for a little while first. I want to get to know my husband's home a little, and learn to love it as much as he did."

"We always hated it," he corrected quietly.

"Love and hate," she mused. "Aren't they pretty much the same thing?"

"Yeah," he croaked with a wince. "Someone else told me that once." He looked to the fire. "Someone who probably knew more about emotions and how to wear them much better than me."

"She must've been something special," Rose ventured warily.

"You could say that," he answered with a sigh. "Very special indeed."

Rose pulled her hand from his and used it to hook her hair behind her ear. Her hand was held upward for a moment as she looked from the fire and toward the small row of young saplings that seemed to line the direction of the water running underneath the ground. She narrowed her eyes into the distance to focus on the river flowing off in the distance.

"I think I might explore," she said in a voice that suggested that she was talking to herself. When she looked toward her two children, it became clear that she was talking toward them. "How about it? Do you want to put on our Converse and walk the planet that your father always spoke about when he told you kids your bedtime stories?"

"You mean the stories that didn't include rampaging aliens and scary forests," James queried with amusement. "Mum. Dad always saved the faery tales of Gallifrey for Liz. I got the sci-fi channel from him."

"Oh, I'm fairly sure that Gallifrey has every single fantastic tale your father spoke of," she said with a smile. "Terrifying or cute, it's probably here."

Liz hummed and curled herself around her mother's arm. "I think Dad'd approve." She looked toward her brother. "Jamie? You in?"

James thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels as he scanned the plain with deep brown eyes that held as much ancient depth as his father's. He smiled and nodded with approval. "Yep," he popped with a grin too wide to suggest that it wasn't covering up his sorrow. "Dad had a tale about a koala with six legs."

"Flubble," the Doctor suggested with a slight crack of interest in his voice. "Not quite as cute and cuddly as the Koala that you're familiar with, but there is a similarity there I suppose."

"And you know where to find them," James asked curiously.

The Doctor nodded. "I'd be more than happy to play tour guide." His lips pursed and he swallowed thickly enough that his head bobbed. "So long as we stay away from the citadel and the panopticon." He winced with guilt. "The last time I was here – things might not have exactly gone … in a … favourable way…"

"Which is Doctor speak for I pissed some very important people off and now need to lay low until it all blows over," Rose said with a roll in her eyes and a long suffering quality to her tone.

"It might," the Doctor admitted with a cheeky grin. "But that won't stop us from enjoying everything else that this planet has to offer."

Liz rolled her shoulders and slid her fingers into her jeans pockets. She looked first to her brother, and then toward her mother as though seeking unspoken approval. With a nod from both, she offered the Doctor a smile. "Well then, old man. Lead the way."