Greetings, my fellow readers!

I'm glad to see you stopping by to try out this canon-rewrite story of mine. I gotta say that the story started 3 years ago, so a lot has changed since then. In me and my writing. Even though I have made a few minimal fixes for the earlier chapters, but the plot and the average length of the chapters remain the same. I gotta inform you, that as the story progresses, I tend to go into more detail and also into more AU. Depending on what you're looking for, I hope you'll give this story a try and if you like (or even if you don't) give me some feedback so I'd know where should I go next.

Prediction is what the Doctor would call boring, that would just make things easier – that's why nothing is set in stone in this story.

Rating: T (no smut ahead, sorry. Also, no explicit violence)

Pairings: The Doctor/Rose; others yet to be determined.

Warnings: um... angst and fluff ahead? lol Emotional roller coaster.

Disclaimer: no ownership of the Doctor Who show. Only to my AU adventures and reworking of the episodes. Tho, still no profit. For entertainment purposes only.

P.s. This story was inspired by Krazy Ky-Sta Hatter's story "History repeats". 1st and 2nd Seasons are done. This story will be continued on towards Season 3.

Reviews are food for the starved artist. - by Hairi Esh Mooncake


A month had passed since Rose Tyler last seen her Doctor. A month since she heard his voice call her name, and a lot longer since the time when she was able to touch him.

"Can I..." She suspected what answer she would get, but still couldn't stop herself hoping to touch him one last time.

"I'm still just an image," he told her with a sorrowful smile. Crushing the last hope.

Also, a month since her tearful confession, which she never had a chance to hear a reply to.

"And I suppose, if it's one last chance to say it...Rose Tyler-"

And today, the 22nd of January is the day she dead. After a series of nearly successful attempts on her life, in the form of: accidentally fallen brick, broken stairs, robbery in the bank, nearly drowning, it was finally it. Pete's World finally gotten rid of her.

She should have noticed it. After all, the whole month was quite 'bad' for her. Jackie would complain how bad this January was, with so much snow that she couldn't get outside at all. The news would broadcast the weather starting with words "We know how bad this January has been for all of us...", and let's not forget her "accidently" finding a book in Pete's residence library of Anglo Saxon. Which she continued to read while trying to bury her depression and learnt many interesting things (or at least things which should have been interesting), such as the name of January in Anglo Saxon having a symbolic meaning of a wolf moon.

Bad Wolf.

She should have known, that Bad Wolf doesn't end with death, and that it was just the beginning of what is awaiting of her.

Everything was moving in a slow motion. She heard concerned voices of her family and friends calling her name, pleading her to stay awake, but by each second it was starting to get harder and harder to breathe. Her eyelids were getting heaver and she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. Voices becoming more distant, until she couldn't hear anything whatsoever. It was all just blackness.


And she thought that this was it, this was how her life was gonna end.

Inside her mind she was cursing the universe for such an unfair fate, with all her might she tried to keep her mind awake at least, even if her body had succumbed to darkness long ago. And then, all of a sudden, she felt very light, like something was carrying her. She tried to open her eyes but it didn't work. So all she could do was wait and absorb the feeling she was getting.


She felt a heavy blow to her back. She could feel something hard and cold against her back. If one can laugh in one's mind then Rose did just that. She couldn't believe that she was going to stay awake while her body was being transported to morgue.

But something was wrong. Very wrong about that thought. She couldn't have been in morgue because dead bodies are laid down on the table, not standing.


Standing? How come she was standing if she could barely breathe or feel her body moments ago? And that light. Her eyes, still closed, could feel light on them. She tried moving her eyelids and little by little they came to focus. At first she didn't see anything. Everything was kinda blurry, but after blinking a few times her vision started to become focused. What she saw in front of her made her gape, speechless.

She couldn't quite comprehend what she was feeling. Who could, when the very Living Plastic was cornering her to the wall, trying to kill her. Once more?

to be continued...

A/N : I guess the philosophy of my story is the cruel fate of living through the same while knowing what's going to happen next. And things obviously can't always happen the same. This is not a flat out canon following rewrite. This is reliving with the old eyes with some of my bits thrown in between.

I play with plot a lot. Time is not linear and neither is my story. But for that... you'll have to read to understand.