Jackie stood on the balcony, watching the sky. The evening drifting toward night was cool and breezy; as she waited, cars made their way down the road to their dinner reservations and nighttime plans. It was Rose's birthday again, and she hadn't even made plans. How awful was that? Nothing at all. She'd not even hid the presents, not even wrapped them in paper.

Rose might come, she might not.

She could never be sure. This is what happens to us, Doctor! she wanted to scream to the universe, some of us are left behind. Out there, somewhere, a strange man was whizzing about with her daughter, and all she could do was wait on the balcony. She hated the waiting. That was one part of being left behind that hurt like salt in a wound.

The wound, of course, that they left you in the first place.

And then there was the dread—something terrible might have happened, might be happening, might yet happen, and she would never know it. That kept her up at night. She always double checked Rose's bed before she went to sleep, just making sure. A reminder. There were the too short phone calls and visits that dried up and withered before she was waiting for a new one. Jackie was certain that for Rose they lasted hours, but for her, those few minutes were hard to grasp.

My daughter is on some planet, calling home. The calls, the select number there were, rang erratically… the middle of the night, halfway down the stairs, as she was ordering pizza, watching a movie. But she never ignored one. Ever. Sometimes it was only a mate on the line or a survey of how she liked her mobile service—but it wasn't worth the risk. Jackie kept close vigilance at all times.

Mickey pounded up the stairs and swung around the corner, eyes wide and panting. "Did I miss it?"

Jackie shook her head. "Nah."

He glanced up at the sky and then down at the ground, in between the buildings where the blue box would usually land. "They'll show up," he mustered in his confident voice, but Jackie could tell that he didn't believe it.

But the worst was the baggage. Worse than the waiting, the phone calls, the heart-wrenching dread. Jackie saw what he did to her Rose, watched her change and become a different person. Whenever she stayed the night, she would scream in her sleep, creatures haunting her. Right in her dreams. Well, what happened when the Doctor wasn't there to save her anymore?

What happened when he couldn't hold her hand?

Jackie tapped out a rhythm on the metal bar. The sky was darkening. Mickey checked his watch. "It's getting late, Jackie." Unsaid: they aren't coming.

"I can wait," she replied.

"Jackie…"

Her phone rang in her pocket. "Oh, god," she gasped, digging it out with trembling fingers. The spare change and papers tumbled to the ground as she pulled out the mobile, still chiming.

"Hello?" Her voice was anxious, desperate, even to her own ears. Mickey leaned in closer.

"Hi, Mum!" Rose shouted. "Listen, I'm so sorry I'm missing my birthday. I hope I'm not ruining any plans, yeah?" The other end was a blur of noise. Music blared and a crowd cheered. Firecrackers popped in successive crackles—a party if Jackie had ever heard one.

"No, it's okay, sweetheart," Jackie replied. She ached to say something, anything, to get more time. No words came to mind, though.

"It's just the Doctor found this planet… What's it called again?" Rose pulled away from the phone and a round of fireworks boomed across the line. "Right, I'm not even going to try repeating that. It's just the people—er, the aliens, they throw really brilliant parties, and the Doctor mentioned it was my birthday, and they just wouldn't let us leave…"

"Come home soon, Rose. Mickey and I made you a cake… well, we wrote your name on it at least, and I don't want it getting old before you—"

The sound of laughter erupting cut Jackie off. She could imagine Rose pressing the phone to her ear, trying to hear, but the image stopped there. How could she begin to guess at where Rose was, what it looked like? "Oh, Mum, I've got to go. The Doctor's trying to do the limbo—he's going to break his neck. No, you can't use the sonic! Sorry. I'll call home soon! Love you."

"No!" Jackie protested. "Rose… I…"

From the background, Rose was shouting. "Doctor, you're supposed to do it the other way!"

The call went dead. Jackie stood, listening to the dial tone humming in her ear. Mickey gently guided her arm down to her side and ended the call. She felt numb, all numb, staring out into the dark. She didn't even move.

"Want a cuppa?" Mickey asked, gesturing back at the door to her flat. Jackie didn't answer. Just stood. Only stared.

It didn't even hurt anymore, being forgotten. It had been so long and she'd become so hard. Inside, her chest ached with every fresh breath, but it was like exercise, wasn't it, less and less noticeable every time. Except that it wasn't exercise, and this wasn't making her better, this was torture, strange and cruel.

"Well, 'night then," he muttered. And he walked away.

Stupid boy. Trying to keep a hold of Rose. The left-behinds all found their own ways of coping, though. Jackie had used to think that someday he would marry Rose, maybe. They'd always seemed happy enough, and he was a good guy, someone dedicated who would support her. Not as if he were anyone rich or special or even that Jackie cared for him much. She only wanted Rose to be happy.

And, as it turned out, there was another requirement: she wanted Rose happy, and on Earth.