Disclaimer: Mary had a DW copyright, DW copyright, DW copyright. Mary had a DW copyright, and it was never mine.
A/N: I've been working on this for too long already, and I'm still not satisfied. But I figure, if I don't post it now, I never will. And I can always work on it later when inspiration hits. Another quote chappie because I'll never get tired of those.
Forget-Me-Not
She is so alive.
If anything could make up for their separation, it was that. Because after all was said and done, she was breathing and living and loving. He knew the pain he felt was hers as well, but he could do nothing but revel in that because if she was hurting, then she was feeling. And is she was feeling, then she was living.
Her name was Rose.
But there was so much more to her than a name. She was human and flawed and perfect in the way that only a flawed human could be. She was the stuff the universe ought to be made of more often, the stuff of legend. She was a wanderer, especially when she was supposed to stay still. She was brave. She was the hand he hadn't realized he'd needed to hold until he had. She had saved him so many times. And she was lost. She'd been the center of his universe, and he wondered waywardly how you found your way when you lost that.
We were together.
For so long, for so many miles. She'd been there for what felt like a million years, and he wondered where the time went. She'd been there so long, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be alone. He'd gotten so used to having her there. Used to her smile when he showed her something new and brilliant. Used to her hug after a dangerous adventure. Used to taking care of someone and, more so, used to being taken care of. He feared now that he'd forget what it felt like to be together at all.
Not that you're replacing her.
He hadn't meant to sound so cross, but he'd meant every word. He liked Martha. He really did. She was smart and generous, but she wasn't Rose Tyler. He'd had so many friends, seen so many days with them all. But if there was one, just one, out of them all who was truly irreplaceable, it was her.
Rose would know…right now, she'd say exactly the right thing.
She'd always known nearly right from the start. Even if it had nothing to do with Shakespeare or aliens or tiny beds, she'd say what he most needed to hear. And he began to suspect that it wasn't the words that mattered but the voice that expressed them.
Oh, big mistake because that name keeps me fighting.
He'd lived this life for so long already, day after day fighting to believe in something worth giving it all for. And he'd grown so tired that he needed to be reminded sometimes of what it was he was fighting for. Her name was just the motivation he needed to lift himself to his feet.
She's just an invention. This character. Rose, I call her. Rose. She seems to disappear later on.
When he was himself again, he thought back to the way it felt to be human. What stuck out the most were the dreams, though they'd been so fleeting and unreal. Especially the dreams he'd had of her. They'd been mere wisps at the edge of his conscience just threatening to disappear. And he hated the way that felt…as if she'd never really existed. He hated himself for forgetting her. Human him should have realized that even he couldn't invent someone so fantastic.
Everything she did was so human.
Even then, she'd managed to surprise him. Power of a goddess, and yet, she did nothing more than she was born to do. Give life.
She's not just living on a parallel world. She's trapped there. The walls have closed.
Saying it out loud was akin to accepting defeat. Though he'd done that a long time ago. Not that he hadn't gone through every scenario in his head, possible or impossible, to bring her back. Telling Jack, someone who'd known her nearly as well as he had, was different than telling it to others. It became a shared grief, but it only made that pain in his hearts that much sharper.