Epilogue: The Doctor's POV

A/N: This is the ending then, if you like. This story has been on big thrill rush, and a very predictable, plotless one at that. Also, very complicated what with alternate futures, flashbacks, should-be events and memories, good luck to me if you can figure it out. I hope it succeeded in entertaining you :D This is the end of the story, with another alternate future, and not as long as the others. Special thanks to my BFFs GwenxxOwen: Thanks for all the reviews and support and helping with all the Doctor Who/Torchwood info! Wuv you Squirrel :D and xxLewrahxx: My Fangirl, what can I say? Your is immensely appreciated, and you stuck with me from the very beginning! Wuv you Sarah!!! :D:D

For the last time: Enjoy and don't forget to review!

P.s. The next chapter is a sort of related Song!fic and I want you to leave me a review telling me which song it is (and honestly, what would you do?) even if I have already told some of you :D It is an unexpected song, I can tell you. And I've already used one of the lyrics in a previous chapter... x

Funerals. I'd never stuck around to see too many of them. I always moved on, mourned silently and hysterically on my own with my Tardis singing to me, and soothing me with her words. That's my routine if someone close to me dies. When someone close to me dies. Somehow, this is different. I'd left and gone a thousand galaxies away, vowing never to look back, but I couldn't. I came back. And now I stand here, watching on from the shadows. My sanctuary.

It always rained when there were funerals, and today is no different. The heavens cry, and it don't blame them. Well, even I'd cried. It takes a lot to hit me that hard. Looking on, I know exactly why I hate funerals. These heartbroken people, all congregating and sobbing, just like captives in a cage, forced together as a false thought of strength in numbers took over. Everything is black – the cloths, the coffin, the flowers and the skies – making this all seem like some ritual to the darkness, whimpering against it for the lost soul back.

I choose not to stick around to close and face the family and the family, and in this case, Jack.

He is here, with Martha beside him and her fiancé. The couple hold hands, staring on in a grieving pattern. Gwen Cooper is here – I barely know her – and she is crying and standing behind Mickey, who just has his head down in a solemn way. Jack is standing there, hand and hand with Ianto, who too just holds his head low. Inside, Jack in alone with his sorrow. He watches in with a mask of nothing. Underneath, he's distraught. He was so close to her. They'd been to the end of the world and back. Seen things that would haunt their minds. Jack's mind. The coffin hits the bottom of the hole, and I watch as new hysterics break out, the parents holding each other. They were so nice to me when I met them.

The vicar closes his book, dropped his head, and made his way around the retreating guests in the graveyard. Gwen is first to walk away, Mickey following behind, and looking up to Martha and Tom, her partner, as they brush beside him. Who wants to stay with the dead when they belonged with the living? Ianto whispers something to Jack, and squeezes his hand comfortingly. The immortal doesn't reply or move, so the welshman sighs, his face laced with pain, and kisses Jack before following his team.

Soon, Jack is the only one left.

A group of men come over, waiting patiently for him to pass so they could cover up the coffin. The immortal makes no sign of moving, his gaze locked on that onyx box. Minutes pass, and he doesn't seem to be breathing. The men glance to each other, noticing this. When Jack's arm lifts, they merely shrug. The captain drops a rose onto the lid, and speaks for the first time,

"I'll miss you too, Kiddo".

And then he looks at me.

I didn't know how he knew I was here, but his eyes find me in my shelter in the shadows of the nearby pine wood as I stand among the cones. They pierce through me, searching into my core. Not for answers. Not for an apology. But…for support. He still looks at me as the hero that would save the world when he can't.

Am I?

I meet his gaze, and we both drop our masks, no longer playing a sick game in a crowded ball room of ghosts. We don't need disguises. Along that connection, we have our own silent conversation. Forgiveness. Regret. Sorrow. As expected. Relief too? He is glad to see me. And there it is. Just as I expected. Hate. Not pure, uncoiled hate that would consume him, but that made of grief. She had died for me, travelling with me when I should have protected her. He knows that.

What does he get from me? A single word. Sorry. What else can I say?

Then he turns, and follows what was left of his family, his walk brisk and his head down. He forgives me. Standing there for a moment longer, I just watch the dirt fall, and my mind bites me, desperate to leave. Wouldn't be long until she was under the ground, with the past. The worse thing is I see her future. In my mind, I see it all. What was. What is. And what could be. Her death would have been simple and easy, full of peace.

OoOoOoOoOo

Grace Miller was old. Very old. Her youth had wasted away with the elasticity of her skin, and the wrinkles had piled on with the years of memories and knowledge. That elongated phase of excruciatingly loud red hair had worn off long ago and a dusting of white now lay on her Mallon streaked hair. Time had caught up with Gracie and she had left the Doctor's side long ago. Realistically, it had only been a week – for her anyway – but it felt like years. He'd dropped her at one of the most luxurious homes there were. But, it was an old person's home none the less.

Jack was beside, - had been most of the seven days – and he held her hand, smiling. She could feel the dread as it radiated from him. The years had passes and his family at Torchwood had grown old and died; sometimes the latter before the former. New members had taken their place and the captain found some form of solitude in them.

He knew Grace's death was upon them, even if it was a perfect death. Through age and not a wound or illness. How peaceful. Just the circle of life coming to an end. Squeezing his hand, Grace returned his smile and told him to go back to the hub. He had been here long enough and surely Cardiff was overflowing with creatures and alien devices that were causing chaos.

"You sure, Kiddo?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes. In his eyes, she was still a kid, and still so young. His voice hadn't changed in all those years. And thanks to the miracle of plastic surgery, neither had his face – he looked the same as that day they first time they met.

The Doctor had brought her back a few years too early, you see. She was older then she should be in this time. Brushing Jack's cheek, she looked at her hand. Old hands.

"You look like you could be my son".

"Oh, trust me; you're more like the daughter in this relationship. I'm so much older then you," he laughed. If anyone listened and watched their conversation, they would think both the captain and Grace were mad. Without a warning, or a build up, they found themselves saying their final goodbye. There was a connection – a glint in their eyes – and a history that treaded far back.

With no words, no well wishes and no other expressions then wallowing in the past and remembering it with a smile dancing on their lips, Jack stood up, kissed Grace on her cheek, and saluted to a fine Lieutenant-General before parting for the last time. The old woman watched him go and sighed, lying back in her chair. The sun was setting outside the window of her room.

Scarlet crossed the sky, shooting like stars and setting the clouds alight in brilliant colour. Lilac trailed behind stumbling into the shadows of the heavens, followed by a graceful fuchsia that sprinkled itself on top of all her companions, singing as she went. The great burning orb fell into the marshes of the Earth and they pulled a content smile from Grace.

"Is everything alright, Miss Miller?" said a woman as she wobbled into the room, her broad Scottish accent hitting Grace like a punch in the gut, causing her heart to jump and catch in her throat as she looked around and caught a glimpse of an oh so familiar face. With her elegant looks, and the subtle curve of her face, she looked no different. Still had her hair up in a scruffy bun, while she positively glowed with the radiance of pregnancy and subconsciously kept a hand on the bump of her abdomen. She was at least five months gone.

"Everything is just fine, thank you, flower," Grace replied. Both women of the room met, and Grace recognized those deep eyes well, where as Amber just regarded her as another one of the home's visitors. The old woman thought one last conversation with her old friend would be bliss, "Is it a girl or a boy?"

"Girl," Amber said as a reflex reaction, before she smiled to herself.

"Have you thought of any names?" Grace asked next, trying to add a dragged, unbothered tone to her voice. Amber trawled around the room, fluffing pillows, organizing table tops and picking up a few stray empty cups.

"Lei, I think," she replied, turning off the television, "After my mother". Her tone was distant as she talked to an old woman who as well on her way out the door. Grace blinked in surprise, and murmured,

"I never knew that…"Amber looked up, smiling,

"Sorry?"

"I said that's a beautiful name, flower". Amber nodded, and looked down at her bump, patting it affectionately, before she continued,

"Aye, it is. I like the name Grace too. I don't know what it is, but, it just seems to ring a bell in my head, you know?" She obviously didn't know Miss Miller's full name, "But, we'll just have to wait and see",

Grace just smiled in reply, her heart aching. The Doctor would have explained how Amber was drawn to that name due to some sort of time/space repercussion that echoed back or maybe forward. Some sort of riddle. Where as Grace just felt gratitude and pride.

"I'll be back soon, Miss Miller," Amber informed her as she made her way from the room, thinking little of it. Grace smiled, and as she turned back to her beautiful view, she replied quietly,

"Goodbye, Am".

She found her memories floated back to her of all those many years. All the laughter and tears. All the greetings and farewells. So sad. And all the brilliance. The true beauty of the universe. So amazing. However, nothing could compare to watching her sun set into her sky on her home planet. It was so comforting.

Feeling someone take a hold of her hand, with such a familiar touch, it didn't startle her. More like awoke her from a long slumber. Looking up into a face she'd hope she would see one last time, she smiled,

"Hello stranger".

Crouching down to her lever, the Doctor smiled. He looked so…young. His hazel eyes were so fresh, with such a spark in them…just like when they'd first met. Naïve and still heartbroken, this Doctor was old. Grace understood immediately, and grinned, "I wondered where you go off to when you left me in that forest near Camelot. You came to say Goodbye before we properly said Hello".

"Forgive me," he said; his voice so lined with youth, it shocked her, "But the endings before the beginning just make things easier for me". He had no idea what his future held Lost in the darkness of fate. Didn't know how much Grace would come to love him. It was so tragic yet glorious. Bless.

"You are forgiven, of course, Doctor. But you shouldn't leave me there long – they'll be a bit of a surprise for you when you get back".

Their goodbye wasn't teary or heart-breaking. In fact, it was the complete opposite. They laughed and smile, reminiscing things the Doctor had lived through and his Grace had yet to find out about. They spoke of old things, and new things. It was the same as always.

But, it had to end at sometime.

"Goodbye, Grace Miller. Thank you for everything you have yet to do. I'm such our time together will be…eventful".

"It will," Grace replied, laughing to herself, "I wish you good luck with that, my poor Doctor. Now, off you go". When she let go of his hand, he had no idea how much that meant. She was releasing him and herself of an old life and with that, Grace gave herself permission to move on. She shooed him away, a delicate smile gracing her lips. He had no idea what he was in for…

Unwillingly, the Doctor left, a final glance back at the old woman Grace would become framing itself in his mind. And then? He was gone.

The moon had risen by that time and night billowing in, smoking up the atmosphere. Serenity took a hold. Grace died before the sun came up.

OoOoOoOoOo

That was how Grace would have died, had the disturbances in time never have occurred. We'd have finished that cruise, seen the stars flash across the sky in unique wonder, and moved on. Anywhere and everywhere. It would have been magical. But, as always, Death won. Sighing, I step behind the doors of my Tardis. Another friend lost, and another lifetime lived and forgotten.

I need chocolate, I conclude. Hearing the hum of my forever companion, my Tardis, it soothes me and I gain the courage to move on. As always, I move on.