A/N: This is the fifth and final entry in my series John & Mike & Rose & Donna.

I'm extremely hesitant about posting this story, because frankly, it's shocking, depressing, and a rank tear-jerker. These four characters – five, with Davey – persist in turning their stories into Greek tragedies – the first finale they came up with was even worse than this!. At least it's short (compared to my other stories, anyway), and you won't have to wait for the end; I'm writing it all out in advance and posting the entire dreary thing at once.

You have been warned. Read at your own risk.

One note: Yes, I'm rearranging time slightly from the series, placing certain events much later than they are on the air. You'll understand when we get there.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, and those ain't my initials, even in real life. Which, in this case, may be a good thing.







"I can't stop it! Now RUN!"


Out the door, Rose first, Davey second, the Doctor frantically bringing up the rear.


Grabbing each other's hands, pulling each other along the corridor.


Sliding around the corner, caroming off the other wall.


Down the other corridor, slipping on the wet floor.


Bursting through the double doors into the Observation Deck.


O, blessed, beautiful, fantastic, brilliant sight: the TARDIS, spotlighted in the center of the huge room.


He already had his keys out, unlocking the door with the remote as they flew across the floor on wings of pure terror.


Three pairs of fingertips stretching out, touching the blue wood as if to caress it.





They almost made it.