Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or anything affiliated with it. It is owned by Russell T. Davies, Steven Moffat, and the BBC. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made.

Spoilers: 4x13, Journey's End
Author's Note: Not beta'd. Assume Donna phoned home more than we saw on screen. Also, I don't know if I captured Wilfred's voice accurately, but hopefully it works. Also, I am not British and didn't even try to pretend to be. If you see something that isn't quite British, let me know. I just wrote this without really thinking about that stuff. :\

Summary: she dreams of roses and sunlight and impossibilities, and he looks to the sky, waiting.

rosebushes

by: chopsticks
p g

--

out on the hill, next to the rosebushes she had planted over a year ago, he looked up to the sky. he bent back down and looked through the pinprick of glass that allowed him to see just a little bit more, to scan the sky for a flash of blue.

he had been waiting, because he knew. he knew it would not last, and he knew that he would need to return.

then one night, the sound of the universe assaulted his senses, and he knew it was time. time.

--

the Doctor emerged from the blue box, closing the door behind him. he glanced around and stuffed his hands into his pockets, eyes landing on the only other person on the hill.

"what's happened?" he asked simply, foregoing the pleasantries.

"you."

--

he started at the beginning.

"it was hard for us, her mum and me. those few times we'd spoken to her when she was with you, we could tell she was changing. getting stronger, becoming more confident. she'd never been confident in her whole life, though she pretended to be. her mum finally realized what her years of nagging had done, and had been happy for her in her own way. then you brought her back, and she was the same old Donna, only not. something was missing. you were missing. she seemed happy, but she wasn't and she didn't know why. that was the worst part for us: knowing she could be so much more, but that she never could be anything than what you had left her as. it would kill her to be anything more, and that killed us.

"i think by saving her life you may have destroyed it. some fates are worse than death, you know." the Doctor couldn't meet his eyes.

--

"she planted these," he said, motioning to the rosebushes. "she developed quite the obsession with roses in the last year. she never really liked flowers, but she said she'd been having dreams of them. vast fields of roses, their blood-red petals practically glowing in the sunlight. she said it was beautiful, but we could tell she was starting to remember. perhaps only in her dreams, but she was remembering. the human mind is funny like that; keeps things under the surface, then drags them out in the dream state.

"then one day she dreamed of only one rose, in a vacant lot in the middle of the city. she said the rose contained an entire galaxy, swirling and swirling at its very center. she claimed it reminded her of someone, but she couldn't remember who. i figure it was probably your friend, Rose. do you think?"

the Doctor said nothing; he turned his head and gazed forlornly at the rosebushes.

--

"after the dream of the rose, the headaches began and she started remembering. bits and pieces, here and there. sometimes she'll say something that is so far out of our depth we can't even begin to understand it, but when we question her about it she doesn't have a clue what we're talking about. she doesn't even go out anymore. i think the lines between reality and what's in her mind are blurring, and she's trapped somewhere in between."

"take me to her," the Doctor requested softly, his eyes sympathetic and worried.

"you promise me one thing, Doctor. one thing. don't lock the memories up again. she was so much better when she was with you. her mum and i think that she should remember, even if it kills her. we love her, but we can't stand to watch her like this." the tears that rimmed his eyes caught the moonlight and they sparkled, sadness and the knowledge that this was right trapped in their depths.

--

i promise.

they sent her off with him, hugs and kisses goodbye because they knew that it was likely the last time they would see her alive. her eyes showed the pain she had been in for the last year, her mind confused and muddied. she saw the Doctor and the TARDIS and smiled like she knew them both, but then the smile faded and all that was left was a confused look. the Doctor gently led her inside, pausing in the door for one last look at them both before closing the door.

he saluted, she waved, and they watched the blue box disappear. "if anyone can help her, it's the Doctor." their tears caught the moonlight as they let her go, knowing it was what she had wanted all along.

--

the end.