Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

So here's something that didn't tell Rory about in the hospital room – she couldn't contact The Shades any longer. But that was something she would have possibly been able to understand, sure she would have thrown a fit and would have gone a little crazy, but that wasn't the only thing. They also had to wipe her memory of their existence. She didn't know how they did it or when they did it, but they did. Of course, she didn't know they wiped her memory, so she didn't even know something was out of place.

Here's what she does remember: She went to London. She went to Wexford and made friends with Jerome and Jazza. There were Ripper killings. She was a victim of the mysterious killer.

Now she's living with her parents in Bristol and she's slightly annoyed that she had to leave Jazza and Jerome, but there's something else she can't quite reach that is bothering her. There are holes in her memory that she doesn't quite realize, but she can feel this deep ache when she thinks about them. It's as if there's something gnawing at her brain trying to make her remember. But she doesn't know that she's supposed to remember something, she doesn't know that she ever forgot.

So she lives her life, albeit with deep fear of course because she did get attacked by this Ripper, but she lives. She makes other friends at this new school; she's used to making new friends now. She still contacts Jerome and Jazza whenever she can and sometimes she even feels happy. She's happy with her new life that she can still contact her friends and be safe with her parents – but the gnawing is still deep in the back of her mind.

So one day, she decided that she wanted to meet up with Jazza and Jerome and catch up with them. It took a lot of convincing on her part for her parents to allow her to take one little visit to London, but they finally gave their consent. She took the train and tried to calm her nerves, because she did have a bad experience in the area, but she was ready to move on from it all.

She steadily made her way through the passing people of the streets to find the café they agreed to meet at when she finally arrived. She forgot that this particular café was on a deserted corner, but she would be okay, she began to command herself. The Ripper was no longer on the streets, or so people told her.

She glanced up to see a police car was parked on the side of the street. This calmed her, if police were nearby then she was safe. Rory moved closer to the police car to check if there was a cop inside, but much to her dismay, there was not. She was still safe, though. The cop must still be near enough to subdue any threats that would come her way. Not that there would be any, she reminded herself.

Rory found herself studying the car. She didn't know why, considering she has seen London police cars many times before, but the gnawing in her head began to become more of a pressure now. The ache in her stomach began to turn into a deep throb. It was as if she could almost picture this particular car from a memory. She was chewing her lip, deep in thought, when a voice startled her.

"Is there something you need, miss?" The voice was low and deep. Rory jumped around to face the person. She instantly calmed down when she realized it was a cop, but went back to being paranoid again when she saw the expression on the cop's face. He looked shocked and was frozen in his position. Rory turned around to see if there was indeed a threat that she should be worried about, but it was just the two of them.

He cleared his throat, "Did you need something?" he repeated hesitantly.

Rory shrugged. "I was just looking at the car, I'm not used to these police cars, I'm American, ya know?" She smiled, because she wasn't sure if she had offended him, or something.

Rory took a second to study him, he relaxed slightly and his expression changed to neutral. He was tall - like really, really tall – with black hair that was slightly ruffled and a pale face. All these British people, she thought, needed a lot more sun. He was also young, too young to be a police officer she had assumed, but what did she know? She couldn't help but feel he was familiar to her, somehow. The throbbing and pressure in her head had increased and she thought she was beginning to see flashes now. Flashes of this guy's face and this police car. She just needed to get back to Bristol as soon as possible, she decided. It was the bad vibes from this city.

"Right, well," he gave her a small smile of his own, "is there somewhere you need to be taken to? You shouldn't be wandering these streets alone, it's not safe."

Rory stiffened a little, "I know that, I was one of the victims." She didn't mean for it to come out so harsh, but she was still sensitive about it, and she was beginning to have a headache.

"Right, of course." He sighed. "I mean, I'm sorry, I'm sure it was bad for you. I'm sorry you had to be put through that."

Rory slowly nodded. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Rory Deveaux." She drawled, carefully.

Again, he nodded. Almost in a way as if he already knew, but she was just being paranoid again.

"You're not from around here, I'm assuming. What made you want to visit London?" She was beginning to get annoyed his questions, but she humored him anyway.

"I'm visiting friends." She replied and looked up just in time to see Jerome and Jazza waving to her from the café, she brightened when she saw them. The police officer turned around to see what she was staring at and frowned a little.

"Right, well I guess you'll want to be meeting them. It was nice meeting you, Rory." He began to walk back to his car and Rory headed in her friends direction, noting the concerned look on both their faces.

"Rory." She turned when she heard the officer call to her.

He stared at her intently before saying, "Just don't forget the people who care about you." He then closed the door of his car and speeded away.

Rory shook her head in confusion and met with her friends.

"Why were you with that cop?" Jazza demanded the second she was in hearing distance.

Rory shrugged, "I was looking at his car and he began asking me weird questions. I'll never understand the weird procedures you British people have around here."

"I just thought that when the Ripper case was over that'd be the last we saw of him." Jazza mumbled as they walked into the café.

Rory froze. "The last time we saw who?"

Jazza glanced back, "that cop. He was constantly lurking around Wexford and you. I was sure he was a stalker."

Rory swallowed the vomit that threatened to make its way up her throat. The throbbing in her head turned into a migraine, she was sure she had never seen that cop in her life.

What is this? I don't even know. I don't even know where the idea came from, but I know it sucks. I never dedicate these things, but I'm dedicating this to MythScavenger because her recent SR fanfic was the reason I got inspired to finish this.