AN: We're baaaaaaaaaaaaaccckkk! (Becsy Lexi and Smego Baggins dodge rotten fruit). Wow, you people aren't very happy, are you? Well, we DID offer cookies and hugs, but no one took them. Speaking of not taking hints: If you're going to read this damn fic, please leave a review. No offence but I could just drop this thing, and actually do something more constructive with my already limited time.

Anyway, annoyance aside, special thanks go, again, to the other co-author Becsy Lexi, who's blood, sweat and tears went into this, (hugs Becsy) couldn't do this without ya!

Dedication: For all the teachers who have passed into my life and those who have yet to give me a part of their wisdom

Chapter 8

Her mobile sat on the table, its screensaver a photo of the family cat that had passed away a year before. Curled up within her usual chair, Roses' eyes were only half watching the mid-morning news and glancing more towards the offending phone. No one, let alone him had called at all, but then she wouldn't have talked to him even if he had. That didn't stop her checking though.

Jackie sat a hot cup of tea before her daughter, kissing her gently on the head before moving back to the kitchen to make her a special breakfast. Hoping that this would help her now quiet daughter to give her more details of her sudden return; in hysterical tears and not wanting to talk about anything that involved the Doctor.

She was beyond tempted to march right on down to that blue box, flatten the door and beat the living crap out of the Doctor until he either told her what he had done, or begged for his pathetic life to be spared, who cared if he was the last of his race? Jackie didn't, not when it came to her only daughter who seemed to be in shock.

He hadn't hit her Rose, Jackie was positive; he hadn't assaulted her, for she knew it wasn't in his character, sure he definitely had a dark side, but he wouldn't be violent in that way. It only led to one conclusion.

They'd had a huge row, and it wasn't going to come good anytime soon.

Suspicion tugged at the back of Jackie's mind for days after Rose had come into the flat suddenly, face flushed, mascara running onto her cheeks and shirt and unable to tell what had happened. For a few hours she had suspected that something had happened to the Doctor, knowing he meant the world to Rose and so close after losing her first grandchild she felt her own strange grief for the alien who had swept her only daughter off her feet. Only when Rose confirmed that it wasn't like that, with a frenzied shake of her head when asked; Jackie thought that he had left her there. But seeing the TARDIS outside confirmed nothing and Jackie was baffled by the unknown situation.

She was so pre-occupied with worrying that it was only the smell of burning toast that brought her out of it. Waving white smoke from the ruined toast, she popped the release button, scraping the charcoal from the bread, buttered it and poured the steaming spaghetti and meatballs over the toast. The bacon was more successful; crisp and curled how Rose liked it.

"Ta da!" Jackie sing-songed and with a flourish; elegantly placed the plate on the coffee table in front of her still quiet daughter. "See? I can cook a proper meal, and I didn't even burn the curtains this time!"

The simple joke didn't work. Rose didn't even flicker an eye at the food or Jackie's attempt at humour, no matter how ineffective it was.

Jackie sighed, feeling a wall had been erected between her and Rose and she had nothing to break it down or find a way to understanding her daughter's emotional distress. Jackie rubbed Roses' hand softly, and went back into the kitchen to do the washing up, leaving her daughter staring out of the window and watching the grey clouds in the cold sky; deeply immersed in her own thoughts.

-0-0-

There was nothing really like having your heart ripped apart. And, definitely nothing like having it happen over and over. Rose had always supposed those poets, she'd briefly read in school, had been pompous arses who just liked to exaggerate. Well they were that but now she realised all that depressive stuff they'd written had actually been true.

There was a dull void where her heart had been, it now lay in pieces, scattered here and there and honestly, right now, she had no care that this was the case. It was like she'd shut down, she didn't speak, except the odd word to her mum, and she ate almost nothing. She was numb, in those first days and weeks afterwards, she was just in shock and almost resembled a catatonic state at times; which was when Jackie was most afraid for her daughter. Her mind had gone into a kind of meltdown, the blow of now losing the Doctor after everything else, after losing Dylan had left her unable to cope; so she didn't.

-0-0-

The Doctor wasn't faring any better, he had picked himself off the console room floor to realise he had no clue; about anything. Overwhelming sorrow shook his being and he felt lost. There wasn't much to be said for his mental state, and it was probably a good thing he rarely left the relative safety of the TARDIS, except for the pointless walks to the flat which never got him anywhere. Who knows what might happen if he'd had much contact with 'the stupid apes that populated this insignificant planet'.

His initial inertial moods had not been helped when Jackie and that idiot Mickey had tried to knock down the TARDIS door. It was several days after the 'event' and he assumed they'd only just got the truth out of Rose because they'd sounded like they were ready to brain him. They'd wanted answers, at least that'd been their plan, he couldn't blame them but he'd not been so far gone to open the door to their hammerings. He'd heard them though.

"I don't think he's in there." Jackie stated looking at the firmly closed door.

"Just because he's not answering doesn't mean he ain't in there, coward." Mickey grumbled and then shouting for the whole estate to hear, "Prick!" There'd been one big last thump on the door and they'd gone off. But no, he couldn't blame them, but even though he blamed himself the Doctor wasn't helped by their verbal abuse. He didn't need to be reminded of what he'd done; it haunted him quite enough, often feeling sick at the simple thought of it.

-0-0-

Rose in turn wasn't overly appreciative of her mothers fussing, course, somewhere in her head she knew her mum only wanted to help, she just didn't want it, she didn't want to think, but Jackie hadn't been able to leave it alone, especially when she'd first come home. She'd been lovely and comforting to begin with, but then Jackie being Jackie she'd wanted to know, and the questions had started. Eventually Rose had had to give a few details, just to shut her up, course she knew it wouldn't help, 'a problem shared is a problem halved' my arse, it really hadn't helped, Jackie had immediately told Mickey and they'd rushed off to try and kill the Doctor, or something. The idea of their possible contact with him gave Rose a strange feeling, like the opposite of happy excitement, it made her heart ache. He obviously hadn't answered the door, she'd been able to hear their yelling even from the flat, and didn't surprise her. A small part of her was more disappointed than she'd let on, and even though she wouldn't see him when he came to the flat asking, part of her felt slightly comforted that he continued to ask.

-0-0-

The Doctor didn't know what to do as he became more desperate. He'd managed to push away the one person he needed, and loved, but he hadn't just pushed her, he'd bloody chucked her overboard. He was so afraid he'd lost her forever his mental state deteriorated further. Now he was into throwing things. Anything he came across really, whenever a violent urge went through him. The only other thing he seemed capable of doing, well almost, was tinkering and fixing the TARDIS. He went from one extreme to the other, violent and destructive, to quiet and constructive. He didn't want to think, Rose refused to speak to him despite his attempts, most of the time Jackie refused to even open the door and just shouted abuse at him through the letterbox. Knowing he deserved it all there were no comebacks for her, just an occasionally aggressive miserable alien who felt sick at the thought of everything that'd happened. He wouldn't know what to say to Rose even if she agreed to see him, simply not knowing where to start making amends. But, he didn't leave, not able to bear the thought of separation from her, and not ready to accept there wasn't anything of their relationship left to save. So he clung to this rock for dear life, for his Rose; and sunk lower still when things didn't improve.

They had been grieving for Dylan, in their own however messed up ways; but now, they were grieving for each other.

-0-0-

With his complete inability to deal with everything, the Doctor even worried himself at times, wondering if he really was going insane. Apart from the situation as it stood with Rose, he'd been stuck on this planet for longer than he liked to think, wasn't used to staying in one place and that, along with everything else gave him some questionable ideas.

He honestly thought at the time, that one or two drinks wouldn't hurt, might make him feel better, and besides, it took a ridiculous amount of alcohol to get a Time Lord drunk so he wasn't in any danger really.

Eight hours and 56 bottles later, many mostly empty boxes lay within the console room of the TARDIS, scattered and becoming more ripped as each pack was having its contents consumed rapidly. His mind was quiet, numb and unconcerned with his current actions, his long fingers moving up and down the bottles short neck and reading the already memorised ingredients, warnings and nutritional value. He was in one of his quieter moods; the sonic screwdriver laying forgotten somewhere in that same room as its owner simply blinked at nothing.

The Doctor knew he was on his way to a heavy hangover, but it didn't fully register anymore, like most happenings that occurred with his beloved TARDIS, which felt his own grief as well as Roses' absence with her. She hummed to herself, lights flickering in agitation and worry as she sensed the Time Lords increasing depression; if the TARDIS were an actual 'being' it would have tried to console him in some form or other.

Picking at a peeling corner of the label, the Doctor tapped his foot against the grating of the TARDIS floor. With no more than a single thought of the consequences, he hauled himself off the cold metal floor and made a beeline for the main console.

He went to touch the console and flick a switch, but a spark shot up and zapped his fingers smartly. Immediately he knew that his own ship was trying to prevent him from even touching it.

"Nice try," he grumbled, but flicked the switch anyway, "but it's not going to work."

The TARDIS reluctantly began its engines and the familiar 'whooshing' noise filled the main room, filled him with a sense of foreboding and yet freedom. Minutes later, he walked out of the reluctant blue box and into the comfortably cool evening of a planet that he'd blindly chosen.

A beautifully intense sunset was taking place; the sky was shading from blue to brilliant red and orange, with dusk coming on quickly; a massive, distorted-looking red sun slipping gently behind a few snow-caped mountains.

Though he was more or less intoxicated beyond his normal limit, the Doctor was still able to appreciate a fantastic sunset when he saw one. So instead of exploring the planets inhabited areas, he sat against the closed doors of his TARDIS and watched natures wonder well past the lighting of the stars. Hours later he was still watching the sky; his arms wrapped around himself, yet lying on the ground instead of against the blue doors. He was also still drunk, but in a quiet mood.

He'd get up in a few minutes, even if the stars were closely bright and slightly unfocused, he would force his aching body and limbs to move from the cold lumpy ground and try and do something with this time he had here.

-0-0-

The Doctor woke with a start. The ground beneath him was uneven, cold and most uncomfortable; he must have fallen asleep while calming his rising regret and turmoil and at what he'd done to the one who hadn't deserved to be on the end of his release.

Stretching out his aching body, his jacket creaking with him, he knew he deserved whatever he received at this point in time. Settling back against an unknown rest he half-closed his eyes, listening to the strange bird calls, animal sounds and un-earth like smells that drove him to think of only one person.

Rose.

She would have loved this place, he silently mused to himself; his buzzing mind forgetting for a brief moment why he was there; he'd love to show her this particular plant whose large native flower changed colour as the day drifted. When he realised what he'd been considering shadows rolled and crossed his mind, dragging his lifting mood back to rock bottom.

Rose was never going to forgive him, not even if she was in front of him and he died there and then. He had accused her of her greatest fear about Dylan; that she was the cause of it all. He'd quietly and coldly repeated to her face her fears that she was a failure on both respects of losing her baby and holding it to full term.

He was wallowing, the Doctor realised, in something he himself had created and caused. He knew he had caused the tension, the hurt, anger, hatred and breakdown that he was sure Rose felt.

Feeling like he couldn't possibly be brought any lower, the Doctor pushed himself onto his feet. This planet was by no means deserted; it was a densely populated half-way planet for aliens packing cargo, detours, and a lot like New York now that he came to think about it.

Making sure the TARDIS was locked (a habit he'd picked up from humans) and decided to get an idea of the general city. Of course, given his mood and recent reflections he had no frame of mind to sight-see. One thing he was suddenly skilled at was finding dark dingy places in which he could drown his sorrows some more.

Some time later, it became obvious that his ability to attract trouble was in no way lessened by his drunken stupor. Who knew how this particular situation had developed into such a mess, though part of him was yelling that it was his fault for provoking them while the other half was calming stating that was ridiculous. Well good judgement while drunk wasn't one of his special talents.

Having enough of the point blank refusal to take their point and leave, the Doctor simply turned to them and flipped them the bird.

The bar erupted.

The Doctor suddenly found himself on the floor, the left side of his face feeling numb, but throbbing as if a brick had been slammed into it. The fist that did hit him was roughly the size of one, but a dirty orange with hairy knuckles. Thinking quickly, he struck with his booted foot, striking the shin of the creature that had attacked first.

Pushing himself up from the suspiciously sticky and horrific smelling floor, the Doctor readied himself for another onslaught.

He seemed to gain the upper hand for a few seconds before a rough looking alien came up behind him and brought a wooden chair down onto the Doctors' thin back. The force slammed him into the ground, and through no dent was visible he felt as if his entire ribcage was on fire.

The Doctor whirled around and punched the offending alien in the jaw, making it stumble back slightly, but it retaliated and decked him one. With that the Doctor was rendered unconscious.

He woke hours later in a back alley, unceremoniously slumped against a wastage disposal unit with a strange fuzzy animal gnawing at his good shoes. Hissing the animal away, which scattered into the shadows, he blinked and looked up and into the brilliant night sky.

At some point during the night, he stumbled into a random motel, finally exhausted and feeling like maybe the whole drinking thing hadn't been his best plan ever. He was so far gone he hadn't even considered getting back to the TARDIS. He crashed out on the bed, his last thought was of Roses' face, he tried to reach out to touch her cheek, but she wasn't there, and all he did was knock an alarm clock onto the floor; aware of only his wish to hold her again he fell into restless oblivion.

The sleep lasted not long enough and his thoughts were once again becoming evermore darkly depressing. One conclusion was that love sucked, and it could crawl into a pit and die for all he cared.

Hours later he was still sitting on the motels bed, clutching a small picture of Rose. She was smiling that cheeky smile and looking at him with those expressive eyes that did so much talking. He didn't have many photos of her, so he kept this one close to his hearts, where he wished her to be. He knew he was drunk, and as he thought about it, 72 hours of solid drinking wasn't him, nor was it going to become him. He also knew that he didn't really think that about love, it was what had rebuilt him after such a long time alone and guilt-ridden after the war. But now he felt much the same again, the circumstances had changed, the outcome was the same. He was miserable and alone.

Now, sitting with his knees to his chest and within the foggy headache of a hangover, the recent rainwater lazily slipping down the window in front of him, the Doctors' sorrow came for him fully. It came and unmade him, dissolved him, took away whatever defences remained within him. He put his head to his knees and cried, gently rocking himself back and forth on the lumpy mattress, thinking and believing that he would do anything, anything at all, for a second chance.

-0-0-

The Doctor groaned, now knowing why you never mixed drinks from different sides of the universe. For some reason his head felt more awake than the rest of him, though even that was confused as he came round a little more. Sitting up he winced at the light assaulting his eyes, holding his head like it was gonna do him any help, his aching body an irritating reminder of the ill-advised fight of the night before. Despite all this, one thing immediately came to the forefront of his mind,

"Rose." Was all he said, and with that everything was back with him; even in that state, he jumped up, swaying badly, as he lunged for the door.

It took him longer than normal to find the TARDIS, having to rely on the warmth of his key rather than his memory. Racing up to the console, he almost collapsed onto it.

He fumbled a bit with the switches and controls as he set the coordinates, hoping that in the 4 minutes he would be gone, nobody, particularly not Rose would have noticed. Though he was pulled up short by the question of whether Rose would actually care he'd gone. Well, just for the possibility she would and did care he started moving again.

-0-0-

It had been weeks before Rose felt up to really going anywhere, and even then it was only a quick nip to the shops, she knew her mum was worried, but she couldn't help that right now. To begin with Rose had just told her she was 'fine' and to stop fussing, but now she barely communicated at all. Jackie was lucky if she got a few words out of her each day.

The only true sign that Rose was still in there was the brief glance she gave the TARDIS from the window each morning; it was just visible far below. This small gesture reassured her mum enough to not get those head doctors involved. She'd already talked to her doctor about Rose's 'illness' but without her admitting she needed help, and accepting it, there was nothing they could do. Jackie knew her baby was sick, this simply wasn't normal; and it wasn't surprising that her loathing for the Doctor had multiplied several times over.

"Before you ask, he's still down there, so don't go worrying about that." She said one morning, not disguising her disapproval at how much Rose cared he was still here. Rose might not say anything but some things spoke volumes, Jackie knew she wouldn't ask that, she'd just say things in hopes of drawing her out but it didn't work, was just Jackie's way of trying to prod her daughter, too afraid to really confront her over what she was doing to herself.

The silence she was met with scared her more than she'd freely admit, Rose hardly ate, hardly slept, hardly left the flat, never went out, except for that once with Shirreen when she'd come back at 4 in the morning completely wasted; Jackie had been so worried Rose would start using alcohol as an escape, she'd banned her from going when she pointed out to Shirreen that there was no way she'd be able to stick to a no drinking rule.

Over two months had passed and things weren't changing. Rose was the same as ever. So when Jackie heard a strangled cry at 5 in the morning she leapt out of bed toward the living room, where she'd heard the noise come from. Rose was crumpled on the floor sobbing hysterically. Jackie didn't know what was more disturbing, that she was finally showing some emotion, or that whatever had caused this reaction was likely to be something terrible.

"Oh darling, what is it? Tell me please." She tried to coax her but no sense came from Rose's hysteria though she pointed to the window. Curious; Jackie stood up and looked out and down, not seeing what she was meant to, to begin with.

"Shit." Were all the words she could muster; how could he do this? The TARDIS was gone.

"Oh Rose, sweetie come here." And for a brief moment Jackie comforted her daughter, hoping she would finally be of some use. But it was soon obvious there was nothing to be done, Rose remained panic-stricken and inconsolable; she went to her room and stayed there, unaware of everything except her own sorrow. And it wasn't so much that she refused food, she just wasn't even aware when others were in the room, so it was no surprise she never touched the food they left her.

On the second day she was in such a state she had to be sedated by the doctor Jackie had called. On the third day she was calm enough for Jackie to get few responses out of her. But she felt so drained of every emotion that exhaustion claimed her quickly again.

When she got up on the fourth day and felt up to coming out her room she got another shock when she looked out of the window. Only this time it wasn't heartbreaking; despite that Rose was utterly overwhelmed by it and passed out cold right there; which was where her mum found her a couple of minutes later.

There down below the flats, the big blue police box stood in the exact spot as before as if nothing had happened. Like the bottom of Rose's world hadn't completely given way.

-0-0-

In those few minutes the TARDIS took to take him back to Earth the Doctor thought of nothing but Rose. He had sobered up so abruptly he was now feeling it and felt sick to his stomach; though whether that was connected to the drink or to his desperate need to get back to Rose he wasn't sure.

He slumped over the console groaning in sympathy as the TARDIS did, deciding she knew how he felt. She probably did, she wanted Rose back almost as much as he did.

He glanced briefly at one of the screens as the TARDIS came to its destination. Doing a double take his eyes went wide and he starting shaking his head manically.

"No, no, no, no, no!" He shouted at no one as he bounded around the console and tried to alter course, only he'd left one of the grates open and not having the full non-inebriated control of his feet he tripped, fell head first into the mass of wires and heard an almighty crack.

His hearts sank, what had he broken? On inspection he supposed it was one of those horrible universal 'rules', he'd managed to snap a control board in half, would take weeks to fix, and, most importantly meant he was stuck here. Here where he'd stupidly set the TARDIS to come when he was completely pissed out of his head, four days later than he had meant to be; four days after he'd left Rose.

He held his head in his hands; she would think he'd left her for good. He didn't know what terrified him more; the idea that she might be more upset and angry or, that she wouldn't care that he'd gone.

Only one way to find out, it just happened to be exactly what he didn't want to do, to confirm his worse fears that she didn't care and wouldn't want him back.

-0-0-

He appeared on the doorstep looking desperate and out of breath, Jackie opened the door and taking one look at his dishevelled appearance and inhaling the smell of booze, she slapped him one.

"I need to talk to Rose," Half ignoring the fact her mother had just slapped him, again.

"How could you do that to her after everything that's gone on? Leaving her like that, I don't believe you, as if you haven't hurt her enough." He felt the words strike against him, but strangely they didn't have the effect Jackie had meant them to. Rose was actually bothered he'd disappeared? He'd thought maybe but definitely knowing was something else.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I need to talk to Rose," He grew more determined now, surprising himself with the strength of feeling in it.

"Well she doesn't want to talk to you…"

"But I need…" She interrupted him,

"What you need to do is go away and get sober, drinking isn't the answer. Besides that you'd better scarper before Mickey hears you, he's said he'd like to do more than have words with you if you know what I mean, I ain't never seen him so angry before, I'm surprised he hasn't caught up to you before this…" She seemed to realise he was staring at her, blankly, trying to process her words.

"Mickey's here?" His voice was low though not without an element of the dislike the Doctor had for that kid. Jackie just gave him a look which plainly said 'clear off' before shutting the door in his face.

He knew he'd deserved all of what he got, Jackie slapping him, Rose not talking to him, Mickey wanting to kill him and for a few minutes he felt almost defeated as if he'd now lost Rose forever, and that was if he hadn't done before; this included an increasing darkly jealous type of feeling directed at Mickey. But then, something seemed to surge through him energising his nerve endings and leaving him feeling renewed. He needed to find a way, no, he would find a way to correct all this mess, and not by meddling in time, this time. This was the first time he'd felt an element of his old spirit come back. First he had to talk to her and go from there, a bit of a problem when she point blank refused but he would find a way. There was no way he was letting her go without a fight, he needed her, and something told him she needed him too, he only hoped that something was right.

-0-0-

Rose watched him from the window as he stalked off back towards the TARDIS, while her mum and Mickey chatted quietly and conspiratorially behind her.

"I can hear you, you know. Either shut up or go in the kitchen cos I don't wanna hear it." They turned towards her in surprise, mostly because she hadn't spoken two sentences strung together in a while, and also the strength of feeling behind her words had changed, it had conviction, a hint of her sense of humour and something more.

"My Doctor," She murmured softly as she saw him disappear inside his home. Finding something within herself that she'd assumed as lost, she repeated the words like a mantra, giving her hope and a calmness she hadn't possessed for a while.

"My Doctor," Somehow, she wasn't quite sure how, he would be her Doctor again.

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AN:

Becsy Lexi: Ooooo (tries to calm Smego down) You see what happens when you don't review? She gets in such a state! I would like to thank the many great reviews we had, I know we're a bit cruel but that's the way it goes, it's just not a hugs and puppies type of story. LOL Thankyou to Smego, especially for pushing me to write, my brain needs the exercise and I love the challenge.

This chapter took a little longer than we thought, so sorry bout that! Seemed a little more difficult to produce this so I'm a bit more worried about it! Hopefully back on track now...oooo let's hope the Doctor and Rose are too! he he yep we're cruel and nasty but you wouldn't want us any other way would ya? lol On second thought don't answer that...see you soon!

Smego Baggins: And the hope seeps in ….. Well, see ya guys!

(Both bounce off to do another chapter)