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Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
I woke up on the sand without knowing how I got there initially, and for the first seconds I thought it had to be another dream. It wouldn't be the first time I had these kinds of dreams, either, because when I lost him the first time they came and went so frequently I never knew what reality was. But when my fingernails came upwards, full of damp sand and offering no other explanation, I knew that I had to have come here of my own free will and would remember the how of it soon enough.
Where I was, that was the easiest question to answer, I knew the exact place and the name of the location as much as I wanted to forget about it. I always dreamed about being at the same place where I had seen him disappear, then watching time reverse and have him come back. Hadn't we reversed time before, or something like it, gone back and changed things and given it a different outcome? Yes, we had, but it was something never to be done again because of catastrophic outcomes and I feel silly now for even thinking about it for a second's time.
Still, I knew where I was and I kept looking at that spot. I'd swear that it was glowing differently than the shimmer of the coming sunrise, and I think that where he should be there's now some kind of hole. Some gap, either in my world or the world itself, or my life or life in general, where he should be and he's not. And though he did what he had to do, though he went on and kept going on because that's what he does, I know things will never be quite right for me again.
He might have two hearts, but he still has a part of mine. I've only got half now, and I wonder how long a human being can keep on living with just half of her heart.
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Who would ever think that so much went on in the soul of a young girl? -Anne Frank
"Do you believe in fairy tales?"
"Fairy tales? Well, never thought about it, I guess, because those stories have got to come from someplace. Never thought about them as fairy tales, just sort of tales, you know, stories and - "
He trailed off into a longer, more existential explanation than she would have expected and while she was listening, Rose felt her mind wander. Above them a solar flair was exploding into a rich spiral of colors, some kind of supernova in shades that hadn't been thought of on Earth. It had been his idea, he'd wanted to show her the stars in a way she'd never have been able to see otherwise, and picked a place where he swore the grass tasted like mint.
For now, Rose folded her arms behind her head and let her eyes close. Colors like that don't exist on Earth. I don't think they can be found naturally. Someone or something created them, because a shade just that perfect, it's meant for the sky. Not for someone's dress or jewelry, but for..
"...painting across the stars. I wonder if she sits up in the daylight hours and thinks about what colors she'll use. She probably wears a gown of white because she sees so many colors in a day and night, she'd want to wear something neutral herself. Something that only she could really appreciate. And so when someone makes a wish, she mixes colors in her palette, colors that remind her of their wish, or maybe of their dreams, and she moves her brush across the sky - "
"What's that?"
Rose blinked abruptly, her eyes opening with a start. "What?" she asked, but the Doctor was looking at her with eyes that were a combination of bemused and surprised.
"Quite a story you've got there, Rose Tyler," he said, grinning broadly at her. "I've never heard it before, though. Something Jackie told you?"
Rose smiled again and shook her head. "No, that one's a Rose Tyler original."
"Really? Really! Well, it's brilliant, that's what it is!" The Doctor sprang to his feet, bouncing two or three times on the soft grass. "Sounds a bit like a planet in the galaxy of.."
He was off and running again, catching her hand up in his and pulling her along, but she didn't mind. After all, how often did someone actually get to see something from her own imagination come to life?
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What are your coping mechanisms?
For a long time, I didn't have any. I grew up being the kind of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve because it was easier to make friends when everyone could tell exactly what you were thinking when you were thinking it. No one had to ask me a thousand questions every day with nine hundred and ninety of them being and oh, Rose, how are you really doing? I hated having to do that with my mate, Shareen, she had a horrible practice of being something close to passive aggressive and -
Well, I suppose I do have a coping mechanism after all.
When I find myself scared, uncomfortable, or in a situation where I'm not sure I want to talk about what I'm being asked to talk about, I ramble. It's something I get from Mum, I prattle on about anything that crosses my mind and remotely relates to what I was asked in the hope it will persuade the person away from the original question. Usually, it works. And when I'm sad or in pain, I do the same thing a lot of people do. I lock myself in my room and stay there until it passes. Sometimes it does completely, and other times it lingers.
I'm only human, after all. I suppose I cope just the same way anyone else does. It doesn't mean it always works, but it does mean that I always try.
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If you could change one thing in your past what would it be?
I can't even say how many times I've been asked this question and come up with the exact same answer. And I never say it or write it down, either, I just always blow it off with some noncommittal response about not wanting to have regrets when the truth is, I carry regret around on my shoulders like it's some kind of accessory.
Sometimes, it gets better. I'm able to not think about it for about five minutes at a time, pretend that it's not as bad as it really is, do all the things someone would do if they hadn't lost the person they loved the most in the shortest amount of time. I didn't go crazy and didn't snap from any kind of control, but I did sink into some kind of depression. Mum knew it, so did everyone else, and maybe if I just start admitting this to myself now, it'll start to pass. I can't avoid answering the question forever.
If I could change one thing, I'd never have let go. I wouldn't have let my hands slip, I'd have seen that the pull of the void was going to be too strong and I'd have come up with some other way to secure myself tighter. Because I've never been able to forgive myself for letting go, for falling that way. Even though the Doctor would be so angry with me had he known I thought like this, it doesn't change it. If I hadn't slipped, we would still be together now.
I can't think of anything else that's happened that would be worth re-ordering time for.
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Soulmate
If there was ever one bound to be soulmate to another, the Doctor was mine. Or I was his, whichever arrangement of those words means that I was irrevocably and undeniably bound to him, without hope or desire to change it. Somewhere along the time we spent together, at someplace in between what I thought I knew and the little that I actually knew, he'd held my hand and shown me the things that existed in between. I didn't fall in love with him then, but that was when I knew something deeper. Something greater and more persistent that I wasn't ready to confess to.
Right before Christmas, the last one that we spent together, and the first, come to think of it, everything changed. He changed, really, changed face, voice, hair style and colour, everything about him went up in a blinding glow of light and changed into something else. And that something else was everything I had ever let myself hope for.
I didn't know what the world could be like until he showed me, and after that I knew there was no going back. Because even if there were other people along the way, even if the past was crowded with the hearts of those who had loved him and who he had to leave for one reason or another, it didn't change how I felt. Nothing changed that, and nothing would, because for the first time, I knew where I really belonged.
And that place was with him.
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