Very sad fic, so if you don't like it, don't read it. Although I might be offended if you didn't read it. Post- Age Of Steel but more about The Girl In The Fireplace. Rose writes about everything and nothing but when she looks back on it, she can see what went wrong with her and the Doctor. Please read and review, not a one shot but a two or three chaptered fic. Hope you like it and don't cry too much, yeah?


What We Used To Be

The pen glided on her paper slowly. The ink flowing into carefully formed words on the page. Rose wondered how it dried so quickly, mere nanoseconds after coming into contact with the sheaf below it. She scribbled circles in the corner of her notepad idly, colouring a few gaps in with the black ink. The pen drew wavy lines that formed into clouds. Black clouds with lightning and rain drops falling. Rose was lying on her bed on the TARDIS, flat on her stomach; pen in hand scribbling away while her thoughts carried her into oblivion and back. Her scrawl was messy but legible, flicking back through her pad, of things she'd written and drawn over the weeks.

Her notepad had become like an extension of her body since she'd met the Doctor. So many thoughts, (some bad, some good and others she dare not write down for fear her mum might read them) ran through her hand and onto the paper that Rose flicked through; the pad nearly full. She stopped at a page. Filled with twisted hearts, splintered arrows and broken halos and a few words she had written for herself, to get them away. Song lyrics filled the next page, scribbles and mad crossings out of lyrics she thought of for herself. She wasn't trying to write a song or anything, she just liked them; they fitted her mood that day.

The next page was different. It was alive with colour; pictures cut out from magazines and stuck down, of any shapes she liked in any colour she liked. Right in the bottom left corner, hidden away from prying eyes was a photo from her own. Of the Doctor and herself, his brown hair whipping in the wind from their right, his arm tight around her waist and her head lolling on his shoulder. She could've sworn the Doctor had blushed that day. Maybe it was just her imagination. She loved that photo so much. It reminded her of better times, when they were happy. Before it all fell apart. She turned the page, knowing what mood was coming next in her rollercoaster of a notepad.

This page…this page still hurt. Black. Her own words darkening the paper. Something she'd written in her head had somehow made its way into inked words. A permanent reminder of what had happened that day. The day he met Reinette. It hurt her, knowing what happened. She'd never tell him, even five weeks on, with Mickey gone and it being back to just her and him. Rose felt lost more than she had been for a long while. He'd been avoiding her since then, snapping at her, arguing with her more, distancing himself from her gaze. One time she'd reached her hand out for his. The Doctor had just walked on ahead of her, steel fixed in his blank eyes. That one had felt like a knife to her heart. What made it worse was seeing him in pain. The knife in her heart twisted the day she saw tears running down his face quietly. Staring at the screen of the TARDIS with her hidden away in the corridor. Rose didn't think she could bear it much longer. He'd lost the woman he loved, and Rose had lost the man she loved. She knew exactly how he felt.

The pages that followed that day had nothing but black. No colour adorned the pages after that day had happened. No hearts, no suns, no stars. One page caught her attention. Her pen circled around the words she had written for herself, that seemed so true even now…

Remember me, I'll never forget

The times you'd give me what your soul would let

I'll never know and I'll never have your love

From me, you kept the kingdom up above

So silent, so quiet, it cut me deep

For nevermore can I weep

You hurt me and yourself, I know

But even then you still couldn't show

What it was that made you love her

It hurts me still, in sleep I still stir

I'll still dream, I'll still love, I'll still cry

I'll still keep photos of us both by my side

But now, my Doctor, I've got to say good night

I just hope the nightmares help keep me from my waking fright

A single tear slid down Rose's cheek and dripped with a faint splash onto the words below, the ink now running down the page. Still true. Every syllable, every letter still made her want him back to how he used to be. Rose wanted her fun, bubbly, vivacious Doctor back. The Doctor who'd make her laugh at some god awful joke he'd crack about a man he'd met in a bar that had a thing for blondes. She'd scowled when he said he should've introduced her to him. Rose ached for him to be back to how he used to be. She didn't know what to do with this man, this brooding, a darkened slip of a man who snapped at her and made her feel like nothing.

Rose's eyes hooded and welled up at that thought. Slowly he'd made her feel like that. She knew he didn't do it intentionally but still…it hurt more than anything else he'd said or done on purpose. She felt like gum on the bottom of his shoe sometimes. He looked at her like she was a stupid little brat not use to being told no. These thoughts made her hate. She didn't hate him, could never hate him. She hated herself, knew he wouldn't love her again after Reinette. Rose didn't begrudge the woman, she knew what it was like to love the Doctor, all Reinette knew was what it was like to be loved in return. Rose didn't have that.

She opened up to a new page, clean and crisp and as white as snow. Her pen drew eyes, lashes and lids wet with the tears that dripped down the page. She drew lightning and hands once locked together tightly broken apart, one being dragged away. The black inked flowed and Rose felt free. Free from self-loathing, free from the hate she'd instilled in him. Free from the world. Soon the A5 sheet was full of broken chains and teary eyes. Only the small space left in the middle was left to be filled and Rose knew what to put there. Only the lyrics to a song could fill that void on the page. She wrote from memory, humming the tune to herself…


'You won't cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant...?
Am I so insignificant...?
Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?

Even though I'm the sacrifice,
You won't try for me, not now.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone.
Isn't someone missing me?

Please, please forgive me,
But I won't be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
I breathe deep and cry out,
"Isn't something missing?"
"Isn't someone missing me?"

And if I bleed, I'll bleed,
Knowing you don't care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
I'll wake without you there
isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?'

Rose pushed the cap of the pen back in place gently. She closed the notepad, her hand spreading over the soft black leather binding softly, her fingers tapping on the cover for few seconds. Quietly, she pushed herself off her stomach and off of the bedding. Going over to her wardrobe, she knew what she had to do to be free of the hate. She opened her cherry wood wardrobe and dug out her backpack, piling clothes and essentials into it. She knew she had to leave, both for her and for the man who used to be the Doctor.

Rose zipped up the bag, speaking to the TARDIS. Saying goodbye to her a final time and asking to be let go from this life. Rose knew the Doctor was sleeping so time was precious and few. He didn't want her on board anymore, he'd made it clear enough and Rose couldn't handle a goodbye. She asked the TARDIS to land her home, she wanted him to be happy again, and if that meant she had to leave him…Rose would make that sacrifice for him. Rose made her way quietly down the corridor, stopping at the Doctor's bedroom door. Rose stared at the wood, her hand splayed across it. Her lips descended on the door and she kissed it lightly, whispering her goodbye to him, tears streaking down her face.

Rose entered the console room, stroking her hand along the centre gently, smiling to herself. Rose placed her TARDIS key and a note on the edge of the console, the tears flowing freely now. The TARDIS landed with a small bump and Rose knew she was back on earth. She fingered the door of the beautiful machine, looking back to her centre with a small smile and a thank you for everything, but she knew it was time to leave. She opened the door quietly and stepped outside. With one final look back, she closed the TARDIS door and turned to face her future. The wonderful blue box faded from view with the ancient grinding noise that was music to her ears.

Rose Tyler didn't know the Doctor spoke her name in his sleep, dreaming how to tell her how much he loved her.


A/N: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and the lyrics belong to Evanessence. The rest is all mine, so you can blame me for your misery.