Yesterday was Remembrance Day, and this is how I feel, yet I just have this inkling that Rose would feel the same way. So here it is, and naturally, because of what the day is, it's going to be angsty. However, the whole school thing… I didn't, and don't, have that reputation. I have the reputation of the girl who read the poems and burst into tears.

I actually wrote this yesterday, and posted it on teaspoon, but went to bed before I could upload it on here, sorry.

Poems are, In Flanders Fields by John McCrae, and We Will Remember Them by Laurence Binyon, and can be found here will a) cheer me up immensely, and b) make me feel better, cos I've got the flu :(

It's unbeta'd cos neither of my beta's are around, but if there are any huge mistakes, let me know I'll edit it.

OT: Anyone heard John Barrowman's new CD? Oh My FROG it's amazing!


It was November 11th, and Rose was sat on her bed in the TARDIS, staring at the wall, her eyes wet with unshed tears. Thoughts ran through her head at a hundred miles and hour, thoughts she thought twice a year, thoughts she wished most people her age, and younger would think too, yet she knew they didn't.

Back home, in London, when it was Remembrance Day, or the 'anniversary' of D-Day, Rose got depressed and over emotional, remembering those who risked, and lost, their lives to save the future. Her friends thought she was silly, that it wasn't their place to remember, and it had nothing to do with them because it had happened all those years ago, but Rose saw it differently, she saw it how she knew it should be seen as. She knew that those men died for her, for her, her friends, her family, the future. If those men hadn't fought, and hadn't died, the world would be a different place, she might not even be alive.

At school, in English lessons, they studied war poetry. She had a reputation to uphold, and pretended to find the lessons boring and a general snooze-fest, but in truth, she was deeply, deeply, moved. She remembered having to do homework on the poem In Flanders Fields, homework she actually did, and remembered it staying in her mind, and making her cry herself to sleep that night.

And here, sat on her bed in the TARDIS, with the Doctor pottering around fixing things, she felt like she had all those years ago, as though she was the only one who cared.

"Rose?" The Doctor had appeared in her doorway, leaning against the doorframe. Rose stood and turned to make her bed, so he couldn't see the tears gliding down her cheeks.

"I'll be right there, hang on." She said, as calmly as she could, when waves of tears threatened to burst from her.

"Rose, it's alright." He said softly from the door.

"What?" She turned to look at him, frowning.

"It's alright to cry. It's alright to remember." The Doctor smiled slightly at her, smiling at her compassion.

"I just… care that's all," Rose said, falling back to sit on the bed again. "When, when I was at school, no one seemed to care, and now, you don't either. I would have thought that you would care about those who died at war."

"What makes you think I don't care?" he asked, coming to sit beside her.

"Wearing a poppy are you? Remembering in anyway? Do you even care? It was stupid apes who died, because other stupid apes wanted power." She spat out, tears falling in earnest now.

"Rose, come with me." The Doctor stood and held out his hand, his eyes pleading with her to take it.

He led her from her bedroom and to the console room, where he paused to enter co-ordinates. The TARDIS landed softly, and he led Rose out through the door.

Beyond the blue box walls, was a tall white marble obelisk with wreaths of red poppies around the base, names were carved intricately into the white stone. It was dark, but spotlights lit the column up.

The square was empty now, families had gone home to watch television and eat their beans on toast, soldiers had gone home to take their mind off their work, and their friends who had died, veterans had gone home and were mourning and remembering the friends and brother's they lost.

"It's alright to cry. It's alright to remember." The Doctor repeated, as new tears flowed from Rose's eyes as she looked up at him in thanks.

She wiped her eyes and wrapped her arms around his chest, burying her face into his jacket. He held her as she sobbed for the men she never knew, would never know, but would always be remembered, at least by her.

She pulled back, and walked back to the TARDIS, emerging seconds later with her own wreath of red poppies. She walked forward, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her hoody, and knelt before the column, and placed the wreath beside the others. She bent her head for a moment, before standing up and walking back towards the Doctor. They stood in complete silence for minutes, hours, Rose didn't know, until a soft horn sound came from inside the TARDIS. She was playing the last post, her own token of remembrance to those who died.

The Doctor held his head high, before closing his eyes, closing the portholes that would release the tears he didn't want to shed, not yet, for the remembering of those who died in war meant more to him than it did to Rose. His people, his family, his race, all gone.

They stood in silence for another minute, before Rose turned and left for the TARDIS. After a few minutes, the Doctor followed, but not before saying thank-you to all the men who died. Saying thank-you for dying to save the human race, the Earth. And Rose.

The Doctor closed the door to the TARDIS and moved along the corridor, following the sound of Rose's sniffing. He found her in her bedroom sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, a book open in her lap, her mouth moving to words he couldn't hear. She didn't look up as he moved towards her, or when he sat down opposite. She only acknowledged his existence, when he reached forward, and placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head.

"Don't overdo it Rose. You can only remember so much. Don't force yourself to remember."

"If I don't remember, if I don't make myself, no one else will remember." She cried.

"I will Rose. I'll remember. I promise." The Doctor whispered, before pulling her into a hug, letting her cry some more.

"I'm sorry," she croaked some time later. "This always happens. Remembrance day, D-Day… I get so over emotional, and sentimental, and so unlike myself… I'm sorry."

"No Rose, don't be sorry, don't be sorry for caring. What you feel, that is like you. You have so much compassion, so much love for these people you don't know… don't apologise. What were you reading?"

Rose smiled at his comment, but frowned at his question. "What?"

"You were reading something."

"Oh yeah that. In Flanders Fields. We did it in English for GCSE, remember it from the lessons I didn't bunk off. Can sorta blame that for this really," she gestured at her red puffy eyes.

"Read it to me."


"Read it to me. If it means that much to you to remember, read it."

Rose smiled at him, before picking up the poetry book from the floor and flicked to the right page, sniffed and began to read.

"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields."


It was November 11th, and the Doctor stood by that same obelisk, a year later. He placed the wreath of poppies to it's base, and closed his eyes to remember.

But not just everyone who died. He remembered Rose, and how she cared. He stood and whispered the age old poem, a poem that meant the world.

"They shall grow not old,
As we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn,
At the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We will remember them."

He would remember them. And he would remember Rose.


A/N: I remember. Do you?