The Wilting Flower:
A Goodbye
The day Rose Tyler truly dies started as all her days had since Bad Wolf Bay.t With an alarm, blaring, ringing much too loudly in her ears, some annoying series of beeps that never failed to rouse her.
It was incredibly monotonous- reminiscent of her life before the Doctor and the struggle of making ends-meat at a boring job that she had brought in on herself. Just as slow and boring, she thought, as she slammed her fist on the annoying alarm that woke her up every bloody morning. She groaned, softly, wishing nothing more than to chuck the thing out one of the large windows of her bedroom and curl into the soft, warm blankets on her bed for a few more hours. The concept of that was ever tempting, every day much harder to dismiss. It wasn't as if she needed the money. But, it wasn't about the money, it wasn't ever about that. As the thing started up again, Rose sighed. Then she threw off her covers, sat up with an ease that came with being twenty-two and completely fit with an alethically demanding job, swinging her well-toned legs so that she could stand, a movement that was a quick flex of her legs.
For a second, all she could focus on was the familiar swirl of her head, her vision blurring alarmingly. It was almost like a head rush- the same sort of dizzying feeling, but much more intense, much more stomach-turning. The young woman's knees buckled as she fell back onto the large bed that Pete insisted she had. It always felt like it was too much. The bed was empty, and Rose felt that keenly as she hit the mattress in an ungainly sprawl.
She was used to a full-twin bed, and before that, a cramped twin since she was seventeen, and the empty space was so much more stark. Towards the end, with the Doctor, she had hardly slept alone. It had been the comfort of being so close friends- and she thinks sometimes the pretext of just wishing to be in the same space as each other. The space around her on both sides was colder than she had ever thought a bed had the right to be, and every night she found herself huddling in a small ball, in the center of the too big bed. Sometimes my hand reaches out, searching for another that will never be there.
For a second, all Rose could do was stare at the ceiling, her head spinning and sour bile rising up in her throat.
The constellations of far-off galaxies, the ones she could remember from her adventures in her original universe, stared down at her in the daft glow-in-the-dark stickers. Some were from what was visible on Earth, the big dipper, the Hunter Orion, but others were from places in space no human had ever seen in her era. The great Beauty of the Sa planet, the Face of Boe of New Earth. All dotted her expansive, navy painted ceiling. It had been a whim. She had seen them in a shop one day when she had been making a supply run for a mission. She had seen them her way to the check out counter, remembered a childhood of sitting down on the estate rooftops trying to see through the pollution and failing beyond the brightest of stars. She remembered stickying similar things on her bedroom ceiling as a child, and not quite being able to take them down when she had come back after her ill-fated year with Jimmy. Something about those things has eased something in her heart then, and she had hoped for the same result when she had purchased all of the ones she could find in the shop that day.
But they were just another memory.
She blinked away the figurative 'stars' that came from standing, taking deep, slow breathes to calm the intense pain that coursed through all of her nerves. It was like a wildfire that started in her head and raced through all of her body until it reached the very tips of her fingers and toes. It came in waves, one after another, scorching her through and through. After a few seconds, she gingerly brought herself to rest on her elbows, fighting back the sudden pounding of her head, and the rising feeling of nausea in her stomach. Each movement is another flair of pain. She bite it all down with a practiced grimace.
Come on, get it together Tyler.
It was not the first time the action of getting out of bed had caused this sort of reaction. She also wasn't all that surprised when she felt a faint trickle of something abnormal cold seep onto her upper lip. She reached for the tissue pack she had placed underneath her pillow for this very reason. She gently dabbed at her upper lip, licking her large lips and ignoring how the feel of blood made her stomach turn with a stronger force. Or the faint worry at the fact that the liquid felt ice-cold, too cold to be normal. It was something that occurred daily, so Rose hardly batted an eyelash as she stood again. She took more even breathes, steadying herself. It was almost a ritual at this point, failing to get up each morning.
Sometimes, I wonder if I'll stop being able to get up at all.
Rose sighed at her pessimistic thought, shaking her head slowly, not wanting to make herself dizzier than she already was. Come on, Tyler, getting moving. One step at a time. She stuffed her nose without ceremony, and walked calmly to her loo, stretching her highly sore muscles with some care, ignoring how pulling them taunt made her wince. It was a necessary pain that she endured, and she was not going to collapse again. That was limited to only once a day after all. She showered quickly and without lingering, doing the motions of getting herself clean, knowing that she had to get into work. She could have a bubble bath when she came home if she so chose... If I had the energy, she thought slightly bitterly as she toweled. She dressed in dark, comfortable clothes, taciturn pants that were stretchy and flexible, a form-fitting vest that moved as she did with little resistance and a blue- TARDIS blue- jacket as the only pop of color. When she was twisting her long hair into a ponytail, Rose suddenly caught a glance of her reflection.
She stared at the woman in the mirror, understanding that the being in the mirror was a woman, something she wouldn't have thought just before she met the Doctor. Just a girl, the chav from the estates with thrown away potential in spades. The woman in the mirror looked too young, she thought, carefully touching the vibrant purple bags underneath her eyes. Too young to have lived through everything she had. It felt like she should an old woman- bent, weathered with the events of Time and Space written in every crease, every furrow of old skin. But appearances were so deceiving. Every one of her features were bright, (if a little on the pale side) and sharp and fresh. Glowing with youth and what she knew with a little vanity was beauty. She had grown away from the last traces of her baby fat. She had grown into her strong jawline and her sharp cheekbones, her full lips, and large eyes. Her body was all curves and lean muscle, careful and compact package. She was beautiful, she knew, not in a sense of self-grandiose or ego(some of that), but in a more matter-of-fact way. A beautiful strong woman of twenty-two. Small differences from her body of before the Doctor, but not enough for most people to note the differences between then and now.
The woman in the mirror had hardly changed since that fateful day in which he had told her to run. It was a funny thing, she had hardly changed physically, but she saw herself so differently. Held herself so differently than she had at nineteen. And that made such a bloody difference.
But not my eyes, she thought. Oh, no, her hazel eyes were old and as tired as the bags beneath them implied. If not older, and sometimes when she stared into her own eyes, Rose swore she could catch a flash of gold lingering in their depths. A hint of a song in her head. But, every time she checked again, the steady iris did not glow or even hint at her strange past. At her ill-fated look into the Heart of the TARDIS. She did not have a physical change to prove that she had been altered by her time with the Doctor.
But she had her memories- her precious moments of running, hopping, and the feel of his fingertips between her own- and she had her perspective of the multiverse.
The key to the TARDIS was also still around her neck, as it always would be. She touched softly, kissing the warm metal as she did every day. She swore, as the day before, and the day before that, the small key gave off a small spark of warmth as it touched her lips. Just slightly. Weaker than what it had been in her memories(before it had felt like an electric shock, but more pleasant, more like a small trill in the back of her head). But that spark was enough, sometimes the only thing that felt warm to her in her entire day, a soft note in her mind that seemed so frail in what had been musical constant in her head due to the TARDIS.
She settled the key securely between her breasts and quickly set to priming her face with effective swipes of her fingertips. She quickly did her makeup, the one remnant from her days as an estate girl that she carried with her. However, as she applied the minimalist amount of foundation, Rose knew she had changed in style. Gone was the heavy and glammed up version of Rose Tyler, the person, who admitted to herself now, that had been a chav. In her place was a softer, smokier version of Rose. The one who had matured and grown slightly bitter in the wake of everything. Her make-up was dark, it was subtle, and more war-paint than true make-up. A daring slash of eyeliner that swung up in a flare, neutral tones of nude and brown to emphasize her old eyes. No lipstick, no gloss, just functional chapstick that was banana flavored because she was sentimental. She looked dangerous, which was the whole point, the type of woman who would smile as she ate you up.
With a small wink to herself, she left the bathroom semi-pleased with her appearance.
She walked down the many flights of stairs, ignoring the yapping dog that shared her name as it rushed to nip at her red trainers. Rose-the-dog did not like her. A lot of things in Pete's World held a distinct dislike for her. She felt a tad attacked- Mickey and her Mum got along just fine with all the woodland creatures, making Rose feel a bit like an evil witch in comparison. It was not her fault and more of a recent phenomenon. Last time she was here, the dog had barely glanced in her direction. Now the thing and several other animals constantly squawked, screamed or otherwise scattered away whenever she came by. It was why she wasn't allowed on Forest Opps- she always gave away their position.
The last time she had startled a squirrel to try and gnaw her face off, Pete had put a foot down.
"Bugger off," she growled at the little dog, nudging Rose the dog a bit with the tip of her shoes. The thing gave her trainer one last nip before it scampered off. It was not a true kick, just a nudge. But the dog still was yapping the entire way as it ran, tail between her legs.
Her mother, as always, was in the kitchen, talking excitedly into her headset to some friend or other she had made. Her mother wasn't one to lose her stride and had walked with her head and chin up upon her entrance to a parallel world. Her place as Pete's wife had been reasserted with a quick, if lavish ceremony in the same church they had married in the first time around, with Rose serving as maid of honor to the semi-confused audience of Pete's World. But unlike their own World, Pete's World, due to the recent havoc of the Cybermen, had a better understanding of the stranger and unusual Universe(multi-as it turned out) they lived in. The appearance of a parallel Jackie Tyler, her daughter, and a parallel Mickey(not Rickey) Smith, the world had accepted them with open arms. Her parents' honeymoon had been just a weekend, for Pete was an important man in this world, and her mother wasn't one to make a big fuss, especially since she had 'A lifetime to spend my life with him, don't need a big thin' of it'.
Her mum's stomach was ripe and round with child, and she all but glowed with happiness as she moved her arms expressively about. Rose, despite the pounding and swirling of her head, found herself smiling at the sight of her lovely mum. So... Happy. It wasn't that Jackie Tyler had been unhappy back in their world. But she hadn't quite happy either. It was a difference that Rose noticed each time she looked at this world's Pete, the lightness and ease in her eyes she had never seen growing up.
It was one of the few good things Rose took comfort in, one of the few things that reminded Rose that there was hope. It had taken twenty years for her mum to get her dad back...
Rose would wait that and more.
She got herself a quick breakfast, feeling the bile rise slightly in her throat as she forced down the simple meal of dry toast and eggs. The toast somewhat settled her stomach but scratched her throat. The eggs were a pain and she almost threw them up, but she knew she needed the protein. So she shoved them in quick and tried not to taste them. She tried to ignore the pounding of her head or the slight but unpleasant tingling that was all over her.
"Rose love, you goin' in today? "asked her mother after a moment, hanging up the phone with a soft snap of her fingers. She hid her displeased frown behind her tea mug, a rough thing roughly the size of her face. Her mum had taken one look of the delicate saucers and cups that her counterpart had favored, rolled her eyes and bought herself a cheap ceramic thing that was more bowl than a cup, "Why don' you take a day off? Have a full day planned today, and I would love you to come with."
"Yeah, mum, 'M goin' in. Big mission planned for today. Too dangerous to be left alone, Dad and Micks are on it," said Rose, accepting the mug of tea when her mother offered it. She sipped the familiar brew, noting with some amusement that it tasted... Slightly off, as it always did.
Mickey, her mum and herself had always mentioned it to Pete, who laughed it off, that everything in this world felt slightly off, taste-wise. It was, after all, not an alternate world but a parallel one. Things sort of lined up, but other things shifted, alternated slightly in a way that was very noticeable to the three of them. Taste was one of the more obvious things: Cinnamon was a tad spicier bit more like paprika than the sweeter stuff they were used too, and kiwis were fairly sour, like lemons. Just little things mused Rose, carefully taking out her phone and scrolling down as she checked the news. It was a high-tech touch screen affair as her old phone flip-phone was vital as a multi-galaxy contact device with the jiggory pokery the Doctor had placed on it, so long ago. Rose had sacrificed it early on in her determination to defend this Earth.
Her mother sighed heavily, eying her nondescript clothing with slight distaste. Rose sincerely hoped she wouldn't start trying to convince her to wear the bright pastel colors of before. She enjoyed what she wore, never mind the fact that her mum claimed it was too much like the first Doctor that they had met. It was similar in the nature of being practical and easy to move in, but it never extended beyond his old habit of darker colors. Rose was sentimental, but it wasn't as if she was going that far into trying to follow the same life she had with the Doctor. She had enough issues without dressing like the man.
"I don't know why you insist on doing all those insane things, running after aliens, getting stuck in time loops. I mean, I understand that you miss the adventures you had with-" her mother broke off, lips pinching shut into a thin line. Harsh, so fierce the skin around her lips turned white.
Rose sighed as her mother looked at her as if she would explode. It was almost comical really, how she looked, her lips pinched and her eyes wide with fright. Almost. It would have been, in retrospect, if she wasn't so bloody annoyed about it.
"You can speak about the Doctor you know. It doesn't bother me," she said quietly, feeling her fists clench.
You're a bad liar, Tyler.
She felt a stab of small pain each time the Doctor was mentioned, even by mistake, as he often was. But not hearing about him at all, and trying to ignore the fact that he existed (as her family was prone to do) made the fact that he wasn't there, nor could ever be, so much more predominant. Made him seem like he was dead, and she was his unstable widow. Wasn't like that. Could've been, got so close, but we never took that leap. He was a coward. But then, so was I. It takes two to dance, and we were both too scared to take the steps. Her mother looked on at her with pinched lips, as if she had eaten a kiwi or sucked on a lemon from their old universe. She touched her rounded stomach as was her nervous habit, her fingertips caressing her unborn sibling with care. Something about that protective act made it worse. Made Rose's heartache.
"Rose, its been nearly a year. I understand that you loved the man, but you have to move on... I worry for you," she said plainly and honestly. Her eyes looked at her hopefully, even with pity, but no understanding.
Rose felt that was worse. The lack of understanding. The lack of trying to understand. Jackie had loved the Doctor- but she had never understood him or Rose, or their relationship. It was partially Rose's fault, she knew that. But she tried to make it up. Tried to make her mother understand now that she could and wanted too. But her mum was too content and happy to understand.
Some part of Rose would always hurt because of it.
"You never moved on from Dad," she said simply, standing up and ignoring the wave of dizziness that took her. Get a grip, Tyler. Her mother's face paled, and Rose knew she had given her mother a low blow, below the belt and then some, "Near nineteen years, you loved him. Missed him. Couldn't let him go. How could you ask me to do what you couldn't?"
Her mum could not, and did not say a word as she stormed out, and that was all Rose wanted.
~BW~DW~BW~DW~BW~
Rose swore quietly as Mickey fell down next to her, clutching his shoulder as blood dripped between his fingertips. She sighed, watching his face carefully, the paleness and sweat that dripped down his brow. His wounded arm held his gun, a quick pistol that ran on laser rather than bullets. Her childhood friend hissed through his teeth, trying to grin at her. It was weak at best, and at worse, looked like he was trying to bit her face off. She quickly took out a small gaze out of the pouch strapped to her back and swatted his hand away to wrap up his shoulder.
"C'mon, move your fat fingers. You're bleedin' all over your nice gloves. I bought you those."
"You never bring a bleeding gun and you never get hurt," he hissed back, giving her a weak glare as she tore at his thick and reinforced uniform.
Rose lifted a single brow as she prodded his shoulder and he gave out a low, restrained moan, obviously in pain.
"I'm just too good," she replied, eying the wound. It was two inches thick, an inch deep and looked inflamed. Not a burn, but a deep cut, thankfully the target did not have a laser gun, but rather a self-defense mechanism that involved nasty barbs that dissolved into the flesh. She saw a bit of his collarbone, peaking through the red muscle and the aftermath of the barb, a sticky blue liquid.
At nineteen she would have gagged at the very least at the sight. At twenty-two, she only brought out a device, to check for poison and possible infection. Luckily there was none of the first, so she dressed it quickly and efficiently after she sprayed a potent spray.
Mickey snorted, snatching his gun from the useless hand to his good arm.
"Well Doctor, tell me, will I live?" he asked. He froze as he finished speaking, eyes looking warily at her.
Rose laughed at his expression.
"Well Mickey the Idiot, I say you will," she said, and rocked back on her heels, tilting her head to the side and listening to the ongoing battle. When she heard nothing, she frowned.
Her earpiece suddenly went off with a soft ring, and she placed her hand to her ear to receive it.
"Gemini to Valiant, Gemini to Valiant," said her father's voice and she breathed a sigh of relief, "Lost contact with the fugitive. Last seen with you two on their tail, report."
"Valiant to Gemini. The Mouse is down with an injured shoulder. Permission to engage alien alone?" she asked halfheartedly as she brought her radio to her mouth. It wasn't as if she needed permission really, or that she would follow orders that well. Something about the Doctor had made her a tad against authority.
Or maybe it started when she was banished by Queen Victoria from England before she was even born.
Mickey looked at her with a frown.
"I hate our code names. I get The Mouse while you get bloody Valiant. How fair is that?" he whined childishly, pouting. Rose only gave him a look, her lips twitching upwards.
If anything had survived in her childhood friend's transformation into the competent, militant man across from her, it was the fact that he could still be a big baby.
"Gemini to Valiant, negative on the self-engaged. Don't you dare young lady," came Pete's hissed reply.
Rose closed her radio, tossing it to Mickey.
"Stay here Micks," she looked at him, eyes firm.
"Valiant, you sure?"
"I'll be fine. You actually got a couple shots in before they skewered you. You lost a lot of blood and should take a moment to take a breath."
"You got this?"
"You know it, Mickey Mouse."
He gave her nod.
"Right. Be careful."
Rose gave a nod in return and ignored Mickey's gesture to take his sidearm. With a wink and laughing softly as his hissed protest, she took off into the shadows where the alien had run off. She knew he couldn't follow that easily. Her only luck was that the alien was injured, even more so than Mickey. She found it after only about ten minutes. Following a blue trail of what she suspected worked as its blood. It lay sinking by the sewer water's edge, nearly submerged into the smut-filled water, but clinging desperately to the walkway. It stared at her with blind, milky eyes, which blinked in unison. All three were pinned on her approaching from, and Rose tried to ignore the discomfort that its gaze brought. Milky eyes did not equally blindness, as it tracked her movements too precisely or they worked on a different frequency that she didn't quite recognize. She was not an encyclopedia of Alien Races, despite everyone's assumption. She had only spent so much with the Doctor, and the parallel world had enough differences that the little knowledge she had was not always right.
It did look a bit like a squid, though. Pale skin, blue-tinted with black spots, tentacles and all. Three eyes, and a specific defense mechanism in the barbs. It shouldn't take too much back and forth from her contacts in space to identify it.
"This is a level seven planet, barely out of the sixth stage. You do understand that you have violated the laws of the Shadow Proclamation?" she said firmly. She ignored the sudden trickle of blood she felt on her upper lip, or how suddenly she had to use the walls to hold herself up. The thing on the water's edge gave a harsh laugh as she stumbled into the wall. It was deep and with a masculine edge. It lifted a weak, curling tentacle towards her, asking for help.
Pushing off the wall, she went to kneel in front of what she suspected was a him, very ready to give it. She ignored the dizziness. She ignored how her vision filled with stars. She just reached out her arms to assist.
"Oh, the Valiant child knows the words," he said, and Rose felt a chill go down her spine. She said nothing, only reached out both arms again, in a peaceful gesture, despite the fear that curled in her stomach.
He looked at her with those damn eyes, as if he could look straight through her.
"Lost little wolf, what are you doing here?" he asked, gently in his harsh voice. It was gravely, a deepness that reverted in her mind. It took her a second to realize it was a combination of vocal and mental vibrations. He was a telepath.
He wound his tentacles around her outstretched arms in a rapid, sudden gesture, and pulled himself out of the water. Rose wished to struggle against his hold, but the alien's grip was so weak, and gentle that she didn't dare. Instead, she carefully pulled him out, feeling sorrowful as one of his many feelers touched the side of her face. She reached a hand to touch it gently, somehow feeling its life wane. Was he projecting? She curled her legs around it, sitting on her backside and allowing it to rest in her crossed legs. Her blood, red, dripped onto his form and he hardly flinched.
"Saving you," she lied softly.
"Oh, Bad Wolf. Thank you for the kind lie. I must warn you. The battle that you have fought to this day will end now- And you will lose," he said in a kind, rueful voice. He sounded completely heartbroken.
Rose felt the sting of tears begin as it stroked her face.
"What do you mean?" she whispered, "You're the one dying in my arms. I still got some fight left in me."
He gave a small, raspy chuckle.
"Valiant child of another universe, that who still is the wolf that burns like the sun, I wish you all the luck in the space and time," he said, "Funny. I was always a bad hat at seeing time-lines. But I guess if someone shines as bright as you, it takes a true blind person to miss them."
"Come on, you're fine. You can even shoot at me some more."
"Sweet Valliant child. I hope we meet again."
He fell limp in her arms. Rose could only let a few tears escape before the searing pain overtook her. She dropped the alien's body and felt faint as her cheek slammed against the concrete of walkway. It was hard to tell, really, as she was spasming too hard to really focus on much. She tried to keep her teeth from clench, worried over bitting her tongue off, but it was so hard. Over time, the pain in her had made her readily accept it, here in Pete's World. But her high pain tolerance had never prepared her for this. She let out a scream that could shatter glass, and then she was screaming so loud she went hoarse until she couldn't scream at all. Only let out breathless sobs.
It was as if she was both on fire, and freezing. As if frozen lightning was touching on every single nerve.
The devil's words haunted her then, and she knew, just as the alien had said, that she would lose the battle that had begun the second she had been trapped in Pete's world. The battle that had raged within her body, rejecting the very air of Pete's world, rejecting the very state of being there. Rose felt fear like never before then, as she shook and screamed on the walkway of the sewer, she knew then that she was going to die.
I never saw him again. I wanted to see him one more time.
She forces those thoughts down. Only thought of the Doctor, everything about him, everything that had frustrated and infatuated her. She brought him to mind, filled herself with the concept of him. And with him, the fear faded away as if it had never existed. She thought of his mad ways, how he would crone sweet nothings to the TARDIS when he was alone. Of how he would cry every time he would read Harry Potter. Of his damn habit of licking things, of being nosey and gallivanting into danger without a thought of his own safety. Of his laughter, of his eyes. Of the dark, warm ones that had looked at her with such agony in Bad Wolf Bay, of the piercing blue ones that had first captured her. She thought of his hand in her's, the cool perfect hand of both versions of her Doctor, and she thought of the way she fell so utterly and completely in love with him. She loved, loved, her Doctor, and even as she laid dying, alone in another universe, Rose could not bring herself to regret that fact that being with him had brought her to this point. She thought only of him as each wave of agony and fire coursed through her.
She barely registered when Mickey found her, or the garbled words he screamed into his radio. All she saw was his lips moving, his pale face a blur as he called out to her in a muffled voice too far away for her to hear. Oh Micks, I'm so sorry. I was horrible to you, and all you ever did was love me. She hardly felt it as he lifted her up into his strong arms, despite his injured shoulder. She saw the light of the sun, bright and beautiful and so painful to her. I get to see the sun one last time, just like that Dalek. When she saw fluorescent lights flash overhead, it took her a moment and looking at the various people dressed in scrubs and masks above her to registered the fact that she was in a hospital. When? Pete's and Mickey's grief-stricken faces were speaking to her, and the words they said were lost, and she could only stare at their mouths as they opened and closed with a disconnected regret.
I love you. Both of you. Pete, you were my dad. Thank you.
It was then that she saw it. Through her own haze of pain, she saw the misty figure of gold. It commanded the hallway, faintly in the shape of a woman, stalking after the moving gurney with animalistic grace. The hands of the figures reaching for her as it followed them. For a wild second, her addled mind thought the approaching figure was made of nanogenes. It looked just like the micro-robots. It moved, however, like a person, intent on reaching her. Just seeing the figure was enough to bring the world beyond her into focus. With a jolt, her vision cleared. She could hear, and the doctors around her were panicked.
"Her heart is starting to stop! It can't handle the stress of whatever the Alien hit her with!" said one Doctor, stricken as she touched the side of her face. Her dark eyes looked at her, wide and pleading.
No. That's not right-
Rose tried to speak, registering the fact over her mouth was an oxygen mask. Tried, but all that came from her weak vocal cords was a weak gurgle.
Is there a tube down my throat?!
"Doctor Jones, we're losing her-" screamed a nurse.
"We will not!" snapped the Doctor, making soothing motions on Rose's face, "Come on, you are the strongest member of Torchwood, just hold a little longer until we can get you-".
"What the hell is happening to her?!" she heard her mother's voice sounded out.
"Come on Agent Tyler, your stronger than this!" said the woman, dark eyes fierce.
But the misty figure of gold touched Rose's hand, and the woman Doctor Jones, the nurses, the other doctors, Mickey, Pete, and her mother's wailing voice faded away into nothing but shadows and warmth.
~BW~DW~BW~DW~BW~
Rose woke up on a very familiar jump seat.
Her eyes fluttered. The first thing she registered was the muted glow of the TARDIS' console room. She blinked, rapidly, breath coming in a gasp as she sat up, with her heart galloping within her chest. Her pain was gone. The air tasted of apple grass, and for what felt like the first time in a long time, she felt... Warm. And safe.
I'm home. I'm HOME!
She took another breath, shaky and in awed happiness.
She knew that she was dead.
But she was home.
After the agony of the last year of her life, she was dead. But she was home. Her only regrets were that her relationships with her family had never quite healed since the Doctor had come into their lives due to her mishandling of the situation and that she had never seen the Doctor again in life. But after every waking moment of fighting against the weight of Pete's world, Rose Tyler, the valiant child, and the Bad Wolf felt peace for the first time in a long time.
"My Wolf," the voice was a song. A sweet, warm and beautiful song that filled every part of Rose.
She turned, blinking. The figure of golden light nearly blinded her. She could not see the features of the woman, only the outline of her form against the golden light. Rose felt nothing but warmth, and peace at the figure's presence. It filed her every pore and reached her every nerve. She knew this woman, but for the life of her(or death of her?), she could not remember who she was.
"Who are you?" she asked.
She felt a happy hum course through her. Not just in the general air, but through her.
"I am the one whose's heart you have looked into."
Rose stared.
"TARDIS?" she asked, and she felt another happy hum of the song enter her as the figure reached out to clasp her hand.
"Oh, my dear, dear Bad Wolf, how you have fought for the sake of seeing my Thief again," she whispered, her other hand reaching to touch her face.
Rose felt the heat of the tears before they fell, and she smiled tiredly, with a little bitterness entering her.
"If your Thief is my Doctor, then I'm sorry to say that I fought for nothing."
The TARDIS hummed softly in that singing speech of her's and tightened her grip on Rose's hand.
"Do not speak so early my Wolf. I can still fix this... You will only have to trust me." said the TARDIS, eagerly, with much urgency. She sounded so hopeful and so happy that Rose dared hope herself.
I haven't felt hope in a long time.
"But I already trust you."
The TARDIS laughed. And it was one of the most beautiful things that Rose had ever heard.
"Then go to him... Go to my Thief and me, and fix the mess that got us to this point in the first place... Be warned that not everyone can be saved my noble, Bad Wolf. But you will see this in time," sang out the TARDIS.
She leaned down and kissed her forehead, softly.
Rose felt nothing but warmth, and then she felt nothing at all.
Edit: 8, September 2019
