Hmm. I'm not sure how this is going to turn out. I've been writing fanfiction for a while, but I've never written anything for the Dr Who fandom before so this is uncharted territory. This story has been floating around in my head for the best part of the last season and now, after seeing the final episode, has decided to force its way out onto paper. It's the tenth Doctor and Rose, disregards the last little part of the episode tag that is the set up for The Runaway Bride, and uses only what has been established in the past two seasons of canon. I'm not a big fan of the earlier episodes and don't really know much about them, so I'm setting this purely within the realms of the 'new' series.



"Rose Tyler…"

He faded away. She cried. And that was the moment that she died.

For three long years, Rose Tyler was dead. She didn't tell herself any more stories like she used to, about how she and The Doctor would be together forever. She didn't smile or laugh. She just was.

She couldn't look up at the stars and know that he was out there somewhere, because he wasn't. He was on the other side of the looking glass, completely unreachable, so far away that he wasn't even within her universe. In fact, from what he'd told her, she couldn't even put a distance greater than the size of the universe between them because it just didn't work like that. Distances could be crossed. You could get from A to B, in theory. She couldn't get to The Doctor.

On the morning of the day after the third anniversary of their separation, Rose Tyler woke up and thought that maybe, just maybe, she might get over it. She noticed the water in the shower. She tasted the cereal in the bowl. She felt the Norwegian cold as she stepped out of her front door to go to work.

And then a man settled his gaze on her, and walked slowly over with an expression of slight curiosity on his face, and stopped right in front of her.

"I was supposed to find you," he said.

And once again, Rose and the world lost contact.

"Rose Tyler…"

She faded away. He cried. He reached out towards where her mirage had been, and knew – never another.

For far too long, The Doctor allowed himself to be tossed around the universe, swept along at the mercy of the currents of time, helping people or fixing things or landing at those spots of the universe that should just have been visited for their beauty and never, ever really getting involved. It just hurt too much, getting involved. Everybody dies, everybody goes away, and he just didn't want it anymore.

But then, the signs started to appear and the dreams began to come, and The Doctor realised that the winds were picking up again. The storm had blown over at a time that what, for Rose, must have been about three years ago, but another was brewing. He felt the tension in the air. He watched the coincidences from afar with a suspicious eye.

And then he saw a girl in the London street and he regarded her curiously as he slowly walked over to intercept her and stopped right in front of her.

"I was supposed to find you," he said.

And once again, The Doctor and the world touched.