Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a panic attack.

"But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, they've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul."

― Julie Gregory

Rose shuddered, opening the door on the other end and trying to push away the memories her mind was so fixed on remembering. She winced as she it came flooding back to her.

(x)

It had been another rough day—none of the companies had agreed to hire her boyfriend and he had lashed out on her again. She worried her head off when he left, saying that he had to think. Had she done something wrong?

'You should have done something,' she thought to herself, 'You could have encouraged him and maybe he wouldn't be so angry at you.'

She began to doubt that Jimmy would ever be as famous as he claimed he'd be, but she couldn't say it out loud. She had to believe in him. He was the only one she had left.

She was so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed that the door of the minivan was clicking open. She looked up, "Jimmy!"

He held a bouquet of scarlet red roses in his hand. She grinned—maybe she hadn't done anything bad at all. Was he here to apologize?

"Hey babe, c'mon in," he said, smirking cheekily to someone just outside the door. The smile was wiped clean off her face when she realized it was another girl. Brunette, dark eyes, pretty. Very pretty.

"Jimmy?" she said quietly. He jumped up and swiveled his head around, catching her eye.

"Who's that?" she and the other girl had asked simultaneously. Jimmy looked at the brunette, "Ah, nobody, sweets. Jus'…housekeeping. Yeah, the maid," he looked at Rose then, eyes cold, "Rose get out."

"What, but…" she said, frowning. He scowled at her, "Rose, just get out."

She stood up, outraged. All the hurt and anger and resentment she had been bubbling in suddenly burst out. She marched towards him and raised her hand.

"You bastard," she said, smacking him in the cheek. Hard. A soft thump sounded as the bouquet of roses Jimmy was holding fell onto the ground. She scowled, grabbed the fallen flowers and marched out the door, tears streaming down her face.

She didn't look back as Jimmy swore and slammed the door. She stared at the crumpled roses in her hand, looked up and took a step forward. Her first free step in a long while. Her first step to home.

And when she had finally arrived home, she had enjoyed burning the flowers.

(x)

She gasped, trying to take in as much air as she could. Tears were brimming her eyes. No, she wouldn't let this get to her. Not again. Her chest pounded as her heart raced. She bit her lip as the world swirled a bit around her. She couldn't move. She couldn't catch her breath.

"Rose, are you okay?" she heard as two hands held her shoulders. It didn't help, she felt trapped. All she could manage was a small shaking movement of her head. The Doctor let go of her and she heard him move in front of her but she couldn't see his expression. Her eyes were sealed shut.

"Rose…" he said, voice soft as he tried to coax her back into reality. She shook her head again, movements sharp.

"Rose, you want to come with me awhile, take a seat?" he said, still in the same hypnotic tone. She thought about it. A few seconds, a minute, she couldn't tell, had passed until she had nodded her head ever so slightly.

"I'm going to take your hand now, okay?" he said. She nodded and slowly opened her eyes. The Doctor was staring at her, eyes filled with worry and guilt and he slipped his hand into hers. She wondered why it felt so right, as though her fingers were perfectly shaped to match the spaces in between his hands. The thought crossed her mind that maybe it was because she was in the room with him when he had regenerated that he seemed so familiar.

She felt a small tug and snapped back to reality. She felt light-headed but her heart rate had slowed down significantly as the Doctor led her to a plush couch in the corner of the room. He helped her sit down and knelt in front of her. She chuckled a bit, trying to lighten the mood, "You should—" she took in a shaky breath, "You should see your face right now."

His eyebrows, if possible, seemed to scrunch up even more. He breathed in and raised his hand, holding up four fingers, "Rose, how many fingers am I holding up?"

She looked at him confused. Her voice seemed lost and it took a while for her to respond, "F-four."

He nodded, "What's your favorite color?"

Her breath was shaky and it took a bit longer to reply, "Pink."

"What color is the TARDIS?"

She knew what he was trying to do. Distract her. She gladly accepted it and began focusing only on the questions he was asking, "Blue."

This went on for a while. A long while. She couldn't keep track of time but she was slowly improving as the Doctor brought her back into reality. It took shorter and shorter to find the answers to his questions, and she was finding her voice and her footing back. When she had begun responding automatically, the Doctor finally stopped asking questions and a comfortable silence fell over the room.

She cleared her throat. She still felt light-headed but a whole lot better than before.

"Panic attack," the Doctor said quietly, voice still as soothing as before, "Mild one…you okay?"

She took a short, slow breath, "Yeah. Y-yeah…'m fine. It's happened before."

She could already picture the puzzled expression on the Doctor's face, trying to piece things together.

"How…how'd you know what to do?" she asked. Her voice sounded soft and distant even to herself. The Doctor looked at her and their gazes locked. She saw indecision in his eyes, as though he were carefully constructing a sentence.

"Had some of them happen to me before," he finally said. She blinked once. Twice. Then nodded and relaxed more into the couch. Silence fell once more.

(x)

"Rose, what happened back there?" he asked delicately, "You don't need to talk about it but…but I think I might be able to help you more if I knew."

She shuddered as the memories lashed out again and quickly looked into his eyes, seeking for a quick distraction. This version of the Doctor had a young face, younger than his previous self at least, but the expression he wore in his eyes was the same. Old, tired and held so much darkness in them that angels dared not tread in them.

She kept her gaze and breathed out shakily, "'S okay, Doctor…I can handle on my own, thanks…"

His eyes, if possible, seemed to darken even more, "Are you sure? Maybe…if I knew what you were going through I could…" he trailed off. She frowned, trying to take a deep breath. Should she tell him? Would it make things better? She felt a soft, comforting hum in her mind. The TARDIS, she realized.

Go, my Bad Wolf, she seemed to know what the ship was saying even though it spoke no words. She bit her lip and looked up, seeing the reassuring yet unfamiliar face before her.

"Alright, then," she said softly, "But you…you have t'promise not to…" her words caught in her throat when the Doctor sent her a look that wiped away any thoughts that he would judge her.

"You can stop whenever you want to," he said, "And if you don't want to tell me—"

"No," she said, "No, I'm going to tell you. Th'full story."

She took a deep breath as the memories turned into thoughts and the thoughts turned into words and the words turned to a story.

Author's Note

This is my last chapter for now. I lost inspiration for this fic, and I'm so very sorry but I'll end you with this. I may or may not continue. Take note that this isn't a full-on hiatus, or at least I think it isn't, but this fic might not be updated in a long time or it could be updated tomorrow! Who knows? I hope you enjoyed the I-think-is-the-last-chapter of the story No Place Like Home.