A.N: SPOILERS for The End of Time Part Two...though I suppose it goes without saying....but still: SPOILERS.
Will hopefully be updated regularly as I reckon I have some ideas.

Disclaimer: RTD doesn't own it. By default, I do.

He staggers around the TARDIS, hesitating before throwing each lever and pushing each button because everything is so new and different and strange...but he's forgetting something important again. Oh, yes – he's crashing. The TARDIS is damaged and spinning out of control – and somewhere, somehow his instincts pull through. His new hands, new eyes, new mind know how to fly a TARDIS blind-folded, with both arms tied up, with an entire Dalek Empire hot on their heels.

Somewhere in the spinning and the long drawn-out tones and the sparks that somehow still fail to surprise him, he realises something is...different...but not in the to-be-expected way.
"Oh," his eyes widen, his eyebrows shoot up and a mass of fringe falls forward onto his face. Impatiently, he brushes it aside to stare at the TARDIS scanner.
"But-but-but that's impossible!" he splutters, and can almost hear the echo: Not impossible, just a bit...unlikely...but, like the fringe, he brushed it aside. This wasn't good. Again, an echo: That's gotta be good? A dazzling smile. Yeah.
But it wasn't. Not this time. Because he was different. There would be no "Run!", no dancing around and with each other, no glittering eyes and laughing half-said truths. Just fear, and suspicion, and no recognition. For her, it would open up any old wounds that he would have tried so hard to heal.
But still. For him, it would be the one reward he never thought he'd get.
Was it selfish of him, thinking like that?

Darlig Ulev Stranden
She holds the torch in her hands, shoulders shaking...from grief, she tells herself, not relief. She is grieving and sad. As long as she keeps reminding herself of that.
"Rose, love?" Jackie has been standing a few yards behind, keeping a respectful distance.
"Rose, it's time," she coaxes. "You can't just stand here, the torch, it's starting to burn your fingers..."
"Yeah," Rose whispers, and finally touches the torch onto the pyre. "Bye."
She can't stand to watch it burn, but she knows she has to. Has to wait, knowing that this is it. Has to keep her eyes fixed on him, and she has to remember. No one will let her forget...


They did try. Rose didn't even think that he noticed that there was something wrong with her. However, he was determined to let their relationship build slowly. She was grateful for that, at least. After a month of "dating" and shy kisses, Rose decided that she'd had enough. Any hopes of the rift reopening were long diminished and tucked away in her subconscious. Anyway, she realised, she was happy. John was like The Doctor in so many ways. Besides, he was the only Doctor she would ever have. So Rose formed a plan. No more holding back, no more excuses from either of them.

Rose Tyler was going to seduce John Smith.


A week after their first time together, John proposed. Rose said yes, as she always knew she would. Rose had never been unrealistic. This was her best chance of happiness. And…she was very fond of John. In a way.


So it was that just two weeks later Rose found herself staring at a blue line. She smiled and placed a hand on her abdomen. Donna, she decided. Donna or…Mickey.


Rose could have kicked herself. She should have phoned John as soon as she knew, she should have run to Torchwood Tower and told him herself, she should have made a national broadcast on the TV…she shouldn't have waited.

OK, she could have told him as soon as he got home that evening. She could have told him the next morning, or the next week…but she hadn't wanted to.

For her, this child was the Doctor's child. Not John Smith. And, above all, somewhere in the back of her most secret thoughts, she wanted to tell the Doctor first.

Then, it was too late.


Rose got the news at three o'clock on a Sunday morning. She heard the men telling Pete and Jackie at the door, and hid under her quilt. Disembodied words and phrases floated up to her.
Metacrisis…no idea…thought it was a migraine…intensive care…I'm sorry.


Rose sat at his bedside every day for three months, even though she knew there was no hope. She didn't know why she knew this, she just did. But still she sat by him and talked. About Torchwood, about her brother Tony, about Jackie's plans for a swimming pool…

She never mentioned that his child was growing inside of her.


Rose watches the flames until they flicker lower and lower, until white ashes are all that remain. Ashes, and the smell.
Is she being irreverent, thinking of the smell of all things now?

AN: If you're thinking, oh, here she goes into her little denial-dream world again, NO that's honestly not where this is going. Promise.