You close your eyes and she's standing there. On the beach---she's standing there crying and begging you to come find her, telling you she loves you...her mascara's smudged and her eyes are red and her nose is running and her hair is everywhere but she's amazing and beautiful and gone.
You lost her. She's just....gone. It's empty in the TARDIS, and you're completely alone, but she's there. Her smile, her scent, it all hangs heavily in the recycled air that moves around you.
She's haunting you, and you wish you could hate her for it. You wonder how long it will be until she vanishes completely.
It's been five minutes since you looked up and saw that damnable bride just sort of standing there, invading your grief. She is so completely and utterly invading, all ginger-haired obnoxious big voice wants to know about you why won't she shut up and listen----
"I knew it, I'm not the first!"
Your hands move over the console, and you're trying to collect your thoughts, trying to figure out what's going on, but your eyes are still burning from---
"How many women have you abducted?!"
You look up. Focus.
She's still there. Stupid, ugly purple shirt that she always looked so radiant in. Fit too snugly in places and probably cost her two quid at some discount store, but Rose made it work. S'all in the way she was, Rose. Made things work that didn't. It had been there, sitting on the bar from where she tossed it while she was digging through the washin' her mother'd done, and you couldn't bear to move it. Couldn't upset how she'd laid it, ruffle how she'd touched it.
It was still so fresh.
"That was my friend's."
You lost her. She's gone, gone completely, but there are still pieces of her all around the TARDIS, this room wasn't an exception. You snatch the shirt away and toss it where it belongs, in the rubbish bin. Stupid bride woman person just rubbing your wound in some salt.
Forcing your lids open. Making you see Rose again, on the beach. In the TARDIS. All around you.
She's haunting you, and you wish it didn't make you lose focus. You wonder how long it will be until she vanishes completely.
It's been five hours since this whole mess all got started. Since you started your adventure, since you met Donna and Lance and learned that Torchwood just wouldn't go away and stop causing problems. Five hours since you started grieving.
The reception is still rather clear in your mind. You wanted to hate those people who were dancing and happy and holding each other, but couldn't. You just hurt from it. Could feel Rose in your arms, smiling up at you and whispering "Hello", like you saved the world for her.
You can't, now. Save the world for her. You're only just trying to save the world for everyone else. You grieve for that, too. To be her hero.
The worst part of grieving is when you realize that you're laughing. And you shouldn't be laughing because it hurts to much without her, so why does the sound come out at all? Everything should be stifled and cold and quiet. But there you are, riding a little motorized pushcart thing and laughing with a rude ginger woman and pretending that everything isn't falling down.
It is, of course. And Rose is right there, over your shoulder, with her smile and laugh that sound a million times better than anything in the universe---something you'll never forget, and that makes the laughter you and Donna share bareable. Makes the moment real. That's a first, at least.
She's haunting you, but it's a comforting sort of feeling, now. You wonder how long it will be until she vanishes completely.
It's been five weeks since you left Earth and Christmas and all that. The TARDIS is cold, now. Heavy with the empty. It may not have cared too much for Donna, but it would rather you were not alone. Your loneliness aches, and it shares that.
"Donna wasn't that bad," you tell your ship, "Bit behind on current events, but...well, some people don't care much for the big picture."
Sometimes she saw it, though. She was very good at holding your eyes open to things you didn't want to see.
(You've seen it out there, it's beautiful.)
And it's terrible. That place was floodin' and burnin' and they were dyin' and you just stood there like...I don't know. A stranger.
You wonder how long it will be until you forget Donna's words. That makes you laugh. You know better, of course. You never forget anything.
A stranger. Funny, Rose never saw you like that.
And there she is again. Feet propped up on the console, grinning madly at you from the seat, telling you that you were all right, just a tiny little bit broken, weren't nothin' she couldn't handle. And you'd correct her grammar and debate on languages. Eventually, you'd move to the chair and lean against her while you laughed.
Such...silly things. Little things.
It would be easier if you had someone to distract you. To make you laugh when you're supposed to be grieving. To make you put that shirt of Rose's away and sleep and stop.
The way Rose would, if you hadn’t lost her.
She's haunting you, and you wouldn't have it any other way. You wonder how long it will be until she vanishes completely.
Muse: The Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 986