At last! I was beginning to think I'd never type those two words! Thanks to everyone who helped me with this, my sister for giving endless advice, and of course everyone who reviewed, you kept me writing!

Disclaimer: Doctor Who (c) to the BBC.

Rose sat at her desk, pen in hand, a fresh notebook open in front of her. It was time to let it out. Previously, when she'd tried writing about her adventures, the words hadn't come; but now, after everything that had happened, she finally felt ready. Talking to Sarah Jane had loosened her tongue, and helping Tobias had lightened her mind. Now the words buzzed in her head, anxious to be free.

Rose took a deep breath and put pen to paper, letting the words flow from her brain, down her arm and through the pen. And once she started, there was no way she could stop.

"Planet Earth. This is where I was born, and this is where I died. The first nineteen years of my life, nothing happened. Nothing at all. And then I met a man called The Doctor. A man that could change his face. He took me away from home in his magical machine. He showed me the whole of time and space. I thought it would never end. That's what I though, but then came the Army of Ghosts. Then came Torchwood and the war. That's when it all ended, and this is the story of how I died."

She wrote for nearly three days with no sleep, only eating when she remembered the food that one of her friends brought her. It was like a madness overcame her; all she could do was write, all she could see was the Doctor, blazing like a beacon in her mind.

By the end, Rose's hand was throbbing, and there was a pile of dry pens and scrunched up balls of paper on the desk next to her, but she was free. She would love the Doctor for the rest of her life, and never get over losing him, but now, at least, she had some closure. Dealing with Tobias without the Doctor had reminded her that she could still function without him, and writing about her experiences would make sure she never forgot him.

Light-headed from lack of sleep, but still wide awake and buzzing with adrenaline, Rose grabbed her mobile phone and punched in Sarah Jane's number. She answered on the third ring.

"Rose?" she sounded slightly groggy. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Really fantastic." Rose paused. "I quit my job."

"Your father told me. In fact, he offered it to me."

"What? Really?" That would be pretty appropriate, thought Rose. "What did you say?"

"I turned it down. Going back after all these years would be a huge mistake. I like the quiet life now."

"Actually, that's why I rang. I'm starting a business, like Torchwood, but not so…all-powerful. I thought you might want to join me. Be my partner."

"A business? That's brilliant! Of course, I accept!"

"What happened to the quiet life?" Rose grinned, relieved.

"Stuff the quiet life. I've got the whole of retirement to worry about soap operas and knitting. And you'll need me; I bet you don't know the first thing about setting up a business like that."

"That's true," Rose blushed.

"What about Mickey? Are you going to ask him?"

"I already have. He's psyched about it. I think his exact words were: 'Stick me in a back room with the gadgets; I'll be the Tin Dog, just don't ask me to be the Doctor.'"

Sarah Jane laughed, and Rose joined in. It was a laugh full of new beginnings.

"So, do we have a name yet? Smith and Tyler? Tyler and Smith?"

"Actually, I've already got an idea for a name. And it isn't that."

"Well, come round first thing tomorrow, and you can tell me all your plans. It's too late now."

"Is it?" Rose glanced at her watch. It was almost midnight. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I wake you?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rose said her goodbyes and hung up. Now that she had nothing to occupy herself with, she was aware of how completely, bone-achingly tired she was. Four months of restless nights suddenly weighed down on her, and she let herself sink down onto the desk, using her arms as a pillow. Getting into the bed six feet away seemed like too much trouble.

The last think Rose saw before she sank into a deep, dreamless sleep, was the final sentence in her book:

"I am the Bad Wolf, and this is the story of how I lived."

THE END