A.N: This is the final chapter... Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to give mefeedback.
I actually wrote this about a month ago, before we found out the news.At the timeI havd a feeling that this was coming, so i guess this is my take on what's gonna happen at the end ofDoomsday.
Also,I'd like to give my eternal gratitude to all the people at T&C, yourhelp's been wonderful! And finally to my two betas Shanks and Dragon-Love both you guys.
I'm not sure ifI'll see you again,soI guessI'll say farewell, you've all be brilliant.-Starlite1-6/18/2006.
Gyroscope, Part 3.
Stumbling blindly through the doors, tears winding down his face, he barely manages to set the TARDIS in motion. He falters to his room, collapsing on the bed without bothering to remove the tattered suit. It doesn't matter any more, not without her.
Hours later, he manages to cry himself into a restless sleep.
There is only existing without her.
On and on, the days he kept for her disappearing beneath a grief-ridden haze of despair.
He can't tell how many weeks have passed the day he resolves to tell Jackie.
When she sees the haggard figure that arrives upon her stoop, she knows. Instead of slapping him like he deserves, she brings him in out of the freezing November wind and sets him down on the couch.
Shock, she thinks as she absentmindedly makes the tea, three mugs…
Except the third part of their trio, which really should be a quartet is missing.
And he's lost without it.
"What happened?" She asks quietly sitting beside him.
She has no idea how he makes it through his disjointed recount, but by the end of it his face is soaked once more.
Then again, so's hers.
It takes her two days to bring herself to it, but the third evening she broaches the idea of a funeral to him. Instantly he pales, and she tries to apologize, but he won't have any of it. He suggests calling in Shireen, and Jackie wholeheartedly agrees.
She arrives half an hour later, a mess of ebony hair and makeup, Cheerful smile fading the second she sees the face of her best mate's travelling buddy. Within minutes she's regretting the makeup.
Once more time is lost, this time to the mess of arrangements for her farewell.
The funeral is packed out. Schoolmates, people from Harrods, government officials, even Harriet Jones, Prime minister newly re-elected. No one can really understand what all these figures had to do with their Rose, but the time for questioning will come later.
The kids from the Estate bring her drawings, their parents telling of how they remembered her fooling around with their children.
Somehow Jack makes it, taking his place beside the man who turned the con-man honest. Beside him Gwen sits, his new partner, but as to what definition of that word they fulfil for each other, nether is entirely sure, but her eyes are still damp for the sister of the man who has become so much to her.
The Casket is empty, but nobody really needs to know that.
Music is played, not all of it earthly, all of it beautiful. Jackie and Shireentalk of their memories, of someone who always wanted more out of life, of swinging on the swings as five year olds, hugs after nightmares, getting drunk on boxing day the year she turned eighteen…
Then the Doctor stands up. At first he can't say a word for the lump in his throat, but, just like her namesake, her words slowly blossom, weaving a tapestry of the fiery, courageous woman who gave him something to live for when he had nothing. Some things are left unsaid, but everything that's important comes flowing from his mouth, echoed in the tears that slip down his cheeks and the cheeks of everyone else in the hall.
More words are said, and suddenly it's over.
The Hearse carries her coffin to the Cemetery. The blinding blue sky filters through the tree branches overhead, falling upon the damp earth laying beside her grave. Next to Peter's…
Both before their time.
He helps lower her into the ground, throws down a single bloom to lay on the mahogany wood. Others follow, until the coffin is buried under a sea of red.
At the wake, Sarah Jane comes over to him.
"Are you all right, Doctor?" She tentatively asks, handing him a beer.
"No." He softly replies, taking a swig of the beverage, "And I'm not sure I ever will be again."
He wakes up the next morning, head throbbing horrendously, and feeling as though he was wearing earmuffs whilst laying beneath an eiderdown. Needles pierce his eyes as they gingerly open up to the blinding whiteness.
Eventually he stumbles out to the kitchen, where Jackie sits in track pants. On the table is a painkiller and a cup of dark coffee. He downs the coffee in one mouthful, mutters to Jackie about how he can't have the painkiller 'cause he's allergic, before stumbling to the window.
Outside London is blanketed in whiteness.
The cemetery is silent in the frozen air, broken by the unnatural crunch of his Chucks in the crisp snow.
She is buried beneath the white powder now, no trace that yesterday this one tomb did not exist.
For a while he lays on the ground next to her.
"I miss you." He whispers
"I miss you so badly that I wonder if I'll ever be able to get up another day. I miss your voice, I miss you scolding me, I miss your laugh, your stupid singing in the shower. Seriously, I'll never understand what you saw in ABBA… I miss holding your hand, I miss your smile, I miss your eyes…You know, it was so easy to get lost in them…I guess what I'm really tryin' to say is I'm not sure how to get by without you. Right about now you'd call me a lazy git and pelt me with a snowball. Remember that snowball fight on Woman Wept? Think that was the first time that Jack's been beat at anything. Did I tell you about Jack? Well, Harriet, who finally came to her senses and thus is back in my good books, found him wandering around London, and asked him to clean up that weapon that was responsible at Christmas…He's done quite all right. So now he's shaking up Cardiff…Came to the funeral with his new partner Gwen." A sigh escapes his lips, "You'd like Gwen. Already loved you from what Jack had told her. Truly the match our Captain has been looking for…"
A breeze gently tousles the snow around him, flakes landing softly upon his eyelashes.
"Your mum's ordered me back every Sunday for dinner…" he pauses as he considers it, "And I think I'll go. Not even sure if I want to leave, in all honesty. Not a clue at all how to go on without you…"
Around him the sky darkens, stars beginning to emerge, his breath rising in great billowing clouds. As much as he might wish otherwise, Jackie will probably be starting to worry. Slowly he stands up, his coat damp from the snow.
"Thanks for the chat, Rose." He says, turning to look back at her once more:
Rose Marion Tyler
17th March, 1986
20th November 2008
Lived her life to the fullest
"Those Who Love Are Unable To Die,
For Love Is Immortality."
As his feet slowly carried him back towards the flat, he could have sworn he felt her hand slip into his once more.