The early morning prayer bell rang out through the village, calling the faithfull to the Tree Temples. Where they would give thanks to the Goddess, and she in turn would bless them for their worship of her. Or so the story go's.
Its dull heavy note barely disturbed the Doctors thoughts, as he sat on the ground outside Ibrocs house, his head in his hands. As the last note died on the air, he raised his head, his hands falling to the dry dusty earth. His eyes were dark and unmoving as he stared into the distance. He was a broken soul, shattered into fragments that were spinning like a whirlwind in his head, and yet to even the most watchful eye, he appeared as empty as death. Infact his only consession to life was the slow and reluctant rise and fall of his chest, as his lungs forced him to take breath after breath after breath. He wondered if he could choose not to breathe. Could it be that simple?
There were people who passed him on their way to the Tree Temples who looked at him, pity in their hearts and eyes. Many threw flowers to the ground around the house as they walked by - as was their custom. An offering of sincere blessings to those within. One flower, a small insignifigant yellow petaled bloom, fell at the Doctors feet and he stared down at it, remembering a time when he had placed one like it into Roses hair. The memory tore a breath of life out from him into the warm air, and he reached down to pick up the bloom from the dry ground. Staring at it, he rolled its stem between his finger and thumb, so that it turned like a golden dancer in the sunlight. A dark smile twitched at his mouth, reluctant and bitter. It was only then he noticed his hands, still stained with Roses blood from the night before. He dropped the flower, and closed his eyes as he sank tortured into cruel memory.
"Doctor?"
He opened his eyes, his head twisting to the side as he sought out the speaker. If there had been one at all. He had emerged from a darkness which had been long and filled with nightmares. Voices from his past had called to him a hundred times. Some had mocked and jeered him, others had been screams he had heard countless times before, yet they had never disturbed him so much as they had that night. Even Roses voice had crept into his ear, whispering that she was lost, that she was cold. Unable to bare her pain, he had opened his eyes, and the silence had returned. He had not know if he was grateful for that, or not.
But now, in the bright daylight of a new morning, this voice was real. The Doctor stared at Ibroc, then somehow pulled himself upright. His legs almost buckled under him, as they had been sat still all night, and at first, movement was raw and painful, although he did not care enough to aknowledge it. He only wanted to hear the voice, the words. He did not ask. He waited. He listened. Somehow he even dared to hope.
"She has stopped bleeding." Ibrocs face was worn and ashen. He had been at Roses side throughout the night, ever since the Doctor had carried her broken body back to the village.
"Is she awake?" The Doctor already knew the answer, but he had to ask. He had heard of miracles, and hoped for one.
Ibroc shook his head."She has almost slipped away from me a hundred times."
The Doctor nodded. How many times had he thought he had lost her, as he had carried her back to the village? A hundred? A thousand? In the end it hadn't mattered anymore. He had found her, and that had been enough for him - for a while.
He had carried her in his arms, his hand pressed into her wound, feeling the slow pulse of her body against him. Her head had been resting at his shoulder, and sometimes he had heard her moan in pain, making him wish that she could find some release from it. But as her silences became longer, he had soon craved for the return of her soft crys of breath, at least they comforted him that she was still alive.
"She clings to life. She refuses to let go. She is strong of heart." Ibroc looked into the Doctors face as he impressed the words upon him.
Again the Doctor nodded his head. "She's a fighter." He said, a faded smile ghosting across his lips. "Stubborn too, but... " He lifted his eyes to stare into Ibrocs face. "It's going to take more than that, isn't it?"
Ibroc glanced away, unwilling to meet the Doctors eyes. It was all the answer the Doctor needed. Rose was by no means out of danger. It had been a long night. She had lost so much blood. If she was clinging to life, then it was by her fingertips, and she had every chance of falling. The Doctor leant heavily against the wall of the house, so that he didn't crumble to the ground a broken man.
"She survived the night." Ibroc said. "That in itself is miracle enough."
"No!" The Doctors eyes were ablaze with fire and venom as he looked at his friend. "It is not!" He looked away. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't..." He fell silent.
"Do you wish to see her?"
Suddenly the Doctor became alive again, his eyes sharp and keen. "Can I?"
The heavy curtain to Roses room was drawn back, and Ibroc and the Doctor walked through. The scent of many varied healing potions were thick in the air, and one corner of the room was filled with a rich selection of leaves, roots and bark, several of which the Doctor recognised. Burr root, Salifarr grass, Guppy seed, Dru bark, even a small amount of Elois berry, which would have been incredibly hard to get hold of. The Doctor smiled a little. They were all good solid choices.
Kyte was knealing on the floor next to Rose, a damp cloth in her hand as she carefully washed Roses face, gently patting around her small cuts and scratches. She looked up as they came to stand by the bed.
"She still sleeps." Kytes eyes shone with sorrow. She did not look at the Doctor, she could not bare to.
"All is well child." Ibroc offered her a gentle smile. "Thank you for all you have done. But leave us now. Go to the Tree Temples with the others, morning prayer is about to begin."
Silently Kyte gathered together her cloths and water bowl, then left the room with her head bowed.
The Doctor stirred slightly, something Ibroc had said. "Morning prayer." He said softly. "You should be there."
"It matters not."
"Yes it does. You're their Sage, and your place is with them." He looked at Rose. "I'll stay with her."
"Very well Doctor." Ibroc turned to leave, but before he did he looked back to his friend with one last instruction. "Talk to her. She needs to hear a voice in the darkness, so that she can find her way back."
The Doctor nodded wordlessly, then sat down at the side of the low bed. His eyes became intent upon Roses face. Her skin was pale except for her lips, which were flushed to the colour of strawberries. Her forehead now carried a delicate run of stitches just above her right eye, and her left cheek was scratched and bruised. But to the Doctor, she was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever looked upon, and always would be. She was Rose.
It terrified him to think that he had almost lost her forever, and that perhaps he still might. He closed his eyes for a second, blocking out the thought, refusing to even think that she may not yet wake from her dreams, and so condem him to live in nightmares. He opened his eyes and stared into her face. This was his fault. If he hadn't been a fool. If he hadn't treated her so badly. If he hadn't made her run out into the night. This was his fault.
He reached out gently and took hold of her hand, trying not to think about how cold her fingers were, how pale, how fragile. He steeled the breaking man within him. Reasoning that she needed him, more than he needed the luxury of grief.
"Rose." He wispered her name softly. "I know you're angry with me. But it's okay, I deserve it. I said things I shouldn't have. But Rose you have to come back. I need you." His body trembled with fear. "There's something I have to tell you. Should have done it before now really." He smiled at her and his voice grew hushed. "I love you Rose Tyler." He lifted her hand and brought her cold fingers up to his lips, kissing them softly. "So you come back to me eh? Do that for me. Because I love you."
Her head really hurt. That was the first thing Rose knew, even before she opened her eyes. She pushed out her hands sleepily, and unexpectedly felt her fingers run through grass and dry earth. She opened her eyes and blinked, trying to make the hazy mix of colours come into focus, eventually they did. There was a ladybird, all shiny and bright. It's post box red body climbing up a tall flower stem, in a jungle of long grass. Rose lay still and watched it intently, she counted the small perfectly black spots. Nine. Five on one wing, four on the other. The little insect continued it's mammoth climb further up the stem, it was a slow steady affair, and seemed a struggle. Just as Rose began to wonder why it didn't just fly away to wherever it was going to, a dark grey wolf spider swung down from above and swept up the surprised innocent. Its eight crooked legs wrapping around the tiny red body of the ladybird, as its jaws bit down, flooding poison into the screaming insect. Rose jolted backwards, away from the murder. It hadn't really screamed she told herself, and even if it had, she couldn't possibly have heard it.
She sat where she was, her heart racing. She could feel the rush of blood through her veins, and where her hands were still pressed firm against the ground, she almost thought she felt it spinning beneath her. She scrambled to her feet, her body shaking a little as she looked around. She was standing in the middle of a green grassy field, full of wild flowers. She saw red poppies, white daisies, and sunshine yellow dandylions. She looked above her and trembled as she saw the white clouds move across the bright blue sky, with the speed of race cars. It was as if the passage of time was moving faster above her, than it was where she stood. She looked back to the field of flowers, but they weren't there anymore, or perhaps she wasnt there anymore. Whatever the truth was, she was now standing in a childs playground.
Ahead of her was a set of swings, a blue metal frame work with rusty chains and worn wooden seats. A sudden breeze came up from no where, and the swings began to rock slightly. Her hair blew into her eyes, and she pushed it back irritably. There was someone sitting on one of the swings, a man. His head was bowed. Rose was sure he hadn't been there before. She began to walk toward him. This was something she knew, or had known. She stopped infront of the man on the swings, looking at him. He did not look up. Yet there was something so familiar about him. Rose looked at his blue grey striped suit, his purple shirt, worn shoes and reddish blond hair. She felt she was so close to remembering. It was there, but just out of reach.
Her head was hurting more than before, and she put her hand to her forehead, feeling a warm wetness trickle over her fingers. She brought her hand back down and looked at it as she held it out infront of her, seeing the red blood.
Another hand took hold of hers, it was bigger, rougher, but it held her hand gently, with tenderness. She looked up and stared into the face of the man, the stranger. Except he wasn't a stranger anymore. She knew him now. She smiled a wide bright smile, and saw it returned like a mirror image.
"Hello sweetheart." His voice was just as she remembered it.
"Dad!" Tears filled her eyes and she fell into his arms and wrapped hers tightly around him, afraid to let go.
He rocked her gently and laughed. "Blimey Rose, you're gonna break my ribs if you keep this up."
She pulled back slightly, her cheeks damp with fallen tears. "What are you doing here?"
Pete Tyler gazed lovingly at his daughter, and pushed a stray blonde curl behind her ear. "No Rose." He corrected softly. "The question is, what are you doing here?"
Rose looked at him. "Dunno." She said at last. "I'm not sure where 'here' really is."
"Yes, well that's the thing isn't it? Could be anywhere... looks like Earth though, don't you think? Except for that." He pointed his finger to the sky. "Not exactly normal is it?"
Rose looked up. The sky was red now, like fire, she thougth she could almost see flames. She looked back to her Dad. "I don't understand."
"I wouldn't worry about it Princess." He slipped out of her hold and smiled at her again."It's only appearences - and they can be deceptive. Anyway, the where isn't important - it's more to do with the why."
"Why...why what?" Rose felt her headache was getting worse.
Pete Tyler sighed. "Why are you here Rose, with me, when you should be with him."
"Him?"
"The boyfriend."
"Mickey?"
"No love." Pete drew her close and kissed her cheek. "Look, I know I said I didn't approve and everything, but that was before. Things are different now. He's a good bloke. Besides he's waiting for you."
"Who?" Again, Rose felt that she had the answer within her, if only she could reach it. But it was buried too deep.
"I'm dead Rose. Remember? November 7th 1987." He smiled at her, love in his eyes. "But you're not, you're still... undecided."
"No!" She shook her head. "No!"
"I wanted to be a good Dad, Rose. I just never got the chance before. I never read you bedtime stories. Never took you on picnics in the country." He smiled softly. "But I can do this for you. I can show you that you have a choice. You shouldn't be here. It's not time."
"Dad." Tears welled in Roses eyes, reluctant memories surfacing.
He reached out and carefully took off a long chain that Rose wore around her neck. He held it infront of her face, as the silver key on the chain swung like a pendulum, catching the sunlight and flashing like fire.
Rose stared at it, and with the force of an ocean wave, memory surged through her, stinging every cell of her body. She felt a kiss press hard to her forehead, and she heard Pete Tylers voice one last time before everything went black.
"You go back to him Rose. Do it for me."