Rose watched the TARDIS fade from sight. Her tears had stopped, replaced by a numb feeling that made her limbs heavy. Her heart was a cold stone in her chest.
"Oh Rose! I'm so glad you're home," Jackie gushed to her daughter. "I was so worried. It's not safe."
"Well you don't need to worry now Mum," Rose said, her voice flat. "I'm home and that's it."
"He isn't coming back?"
"No."
"Oh Rose. Are you okay hunny?"
"No. And I doubt I'll ever be 'okay' again."
"You'll be just fine," her mum assured. "Come on, come on home sweetie. I'll put the kettle on and we can have hot chocolate and watch telly."
Rose sat in her bedroom. The numbness filled her utterly. She hadn't eaten dinner; she'd simply not felt like it. She knew her mother was worrying about her, but she didn't care. She didn't care if she never ate again. It was too much effort.
Standing, she unzipped her bag and began sorting through her clothes. She threw those that needed washing onto the floor. As she dug down she felt something cold and hard. She pulled out a key. Her key to the TARDIS. She'd forgotten to give it back. Clutching it, she threw herself onto the bed and cried herself to sleep.
A thousand miles and more away, the Doctor sat on the ground. The planet was nothing but dust and rock, but it had been so much more once. His thoughts were as gloomy as his surroundings. Rose had gone; not that he was surprised – not after what he'd done. He really regretted hurting her to that degree, but he was fairly sure she'd get over it. He wasn't as sure about himself though.
He missed her. The TARDIS seemed empty without her. His life was empty without her curious questions, without the bright eyes that took everything in. Without that smile she reserved especially for him.
It had only been a few days, but nothing was the same. The universe carried on and still needed saving from itself. He still went and got himself into ridiculous situations. But when he ran now, he ran alone.
His hands were always empty.
For Rose, weeks had passed. The disconnected feeling continued. Nothing her mother said interested her. She'd gone out with Mickey, but he didn't stand a chance. Her heart was someone else's and it had been stripped from her as the TARDIS had disappeared.
Her life in tatters, Rose slid into depression. She hardly ate, hardy slept. Her mother often found her at the window – staring either up at the stars or down into the courtyard. Jackie would ease her daughter away with gentle words and silently curse the alien who'd left her in such a state. She'd never tell Rose, but Jackie was beginning to think that she'd been better off with him.
The Doctor trudged back to the TARDIS and it vanished from where it had been to appear miles and years away. Out of the view screen blazed a plasma storm. He grinned and turned round. To an empty room. The smile vanished.
An ache throbbed inside him. God but he missed Rose. It hurt him. He needed her.
He loved her.
The thought shook him. But on reflection, he knew it was true. He couldn't, he shouldn't. It was wrong. Yet it felt so right. He currently felt like he was missing half of himself and he needed her.
Okay so what? Maybe she ought to have been on this decision. The Doctor chewed at his thumb as he thought about this.
"Fuck it," he announced to the empty air. He was going back for her and the rules could go hang.
Jackie worked during the days, leaving Rose to her own devises.
One day it all got to much. Rose ached and she wanted it to stop, wanted to stop the hurting. She wandered through the flat and into the kitchen. Opening a cupboard she found a tub of paracetamol. Another cupboard revealed a bottle of vodka. Rose stared at the two things.
It was said to be painless, wasn't it?
Rose went back to her room. Pulling a sheet of writing paper out, she wrote to her mother. She felt a little guilty, but all she wanted now was to sleep. To sleep and never wake up. Never to feel the agony she felt right now.
She sat on the bed and downed tablet after tablet. The vodka made her throat burn and her eyes water. After half an hour, she began to feel tired. So very tired. She lay down and slid gently into sleep.
The TARDIS materialised in the alleyway by the tower block. The Doctor opened the door and looked out at the grey London sky. Sighing heavily, he trudged up the stairs, wondering why the lift in this place never worked. He arrived outside Jackie's flat and stopped. He didn't like Jackie. Jackie didn't like him. He walked up to the door, thought again and wandered off slightly. This was repeated several times before he bucked up enough courage to actually knock on the door.
Silence. He poked open the cat flap.
"Rose? Rose! Ah come on. I'm sorry. Rose!"
Silence.
"Okay, fine. Be like that," the Doctor muttered to himself. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans he started off. She could stay here and... and... He stopped. He didn't want her to stay here. He wanted her with him.
He went back to the door and hammered on it. "Rose! Open the bloody door!"
An uneasy feeling settled in his gut. He had no idea what caused it, but he always trusted a gut instinct. Something was wrong. He plucked the sonic out of his pocket and jimmied the lock. Edging through the doorway, he found the flat still and silence. His unease grew.
"Rose? Please. I'm sorry."
Nothing. He roamed into the kitchen. There was a cupboard left open but no other signs of life than that. He checked the bathroom. Empty. He paused outside Rose's bedroom. If she wasn't here and found him, she'd kill him. He knocked and got no reply. So, taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and opened the door.
She was lay on her back, fully dressed on the bed. The blond hair spilled over her pillow. The Doctor grinned at her still form, relieved at the sight of her.
"Rose?" he called out. She didn't move. Not a flicker. It was then he noticed the empty tub on her bedside table, the bottle of vodka on the floor.
"Fuck! Rose!" He dashed across the room, but his mind was already taking note of the things his hearts denied. She was too still. Her face was paler than he remembered, her lips were blue. Her chest didn't move.
And he knew. Knew before he stretched out a shaking hand to her neck and found no pulse beneath his fingers.
Rose was dead.
