Blinding

Rose thinks it's a bit strange how people say that one day she will find color, as if it's pursuit is some kind of lifelong scavenger hunt. A game she didn't know she'd been playing.

She tries not to think about it too much at first, but she's always been too curious for her own good. She'll find herself walking around art museums, listening to curators describe the blues and purples and pinks of the sky, the greens and yellows of the grass and leaves, the reds and pinks of apples and cherries. She stares at those painting trying to will the greys and blacks she sees to lift and reveal what these incomprehensible words mean. It feels like some unsolvable mystery, one where the answer is staring her right in the face.

She drives herself mental trying to look for hidden answers in the depictions of trees and flowers and fruit until finally, if only to keep herself from losing it, she goes to her mother. What is color like, she wonders aloud? Why is everyone so obsessed with trying to find it?

"'S a bit hard to describe, love," her mother tells her, scrubbing away at dishes, her hair tucked in a messy ponytail with small wisps escaping and curling around her face. "You'll just have to wait your turn, eh? Besides, there's no rush. Now c'mere and help me finish the washing up, would ya?"

But despite her mother's words, Rose still longs for the day when she will be among one of the many who have found color in this world.

It isn't until she's fifteen that she finally learns what finding color really entails.

It's like something out of a fairytale, she thinks, the way they describe it in school. Words like soul mates and life partners and happy ever after. Promises of leading a brighter life full of adventure and freedom and happiness.

"Colors," the elders tell them, "mean the start of a new life. The beginning of a new chapter. All for the good of society."

After class, Rose sees a group of girls huddled together, excitedly chattering about what they had been told, giggling and whispering as they shoot glances at the boys who walk by. Rose also finds herself more aware of the boys at school, her heart jumping to her throat when she catches their eye. Would her next glance be the one that casts off the bleakness of this grey and black world around her? Would her next glance be the one that opened up a whole new world she could barely fathom?

In the end, when she closes her eyes later that night, the world around her is just as dark as the inside of her eyelids are. But she feels hopeful because now she knows what she's been searching for all these years. What the scavenger hunt really entails. And when she drifts off to sleep she finds that her dreams are filled with castles, far off places, and a knight in shining armor who shows her a better life.

Rose is backed into a corner the first time she meets John.

A dog is barking and snarling at her, teeth bared threateningly. Her back is pressed tightly against the brick, eyes darting all around, looking for some kind of escape. That's when he comes barreling down the alleyway, apologizing profusely as he calls for the dog to come back to his side.

"K-9, c'mere boy. I'm so sorry about this, he's usually quite friendly, I don't know what's gotten into him. I did put him on some new medication though; he's got a bit of a rash, poor guy. I bet it's making him antsy. Anyway, I'm John Noble and this here is K-9, really more bark than bite this one, I promise."

Rose tears her eyes from the dog, that has now calmed profusely under the hand of his owner, and she lifts her head slowly to meet the eyes of the rambling man in front of her. Like always, she feels a little jolt in her stomach as their gazes connect, wondering if maybe this time-

But the world stays grey around her and she isn't sure if she should be disappointed or relieved, but she also can't deny that for a small moment she had expected to see her knight in shining armor standing before her. Still, the bloke in front of her seems nice enough, if a bit barmy. She notices he is holding out his hand towards her to shake, smiling at her in a friendly sort of way. Rose hesitantly places her hand in his.

"I'm Rose."

She can't help but take in the pinstriped suit that adorns his lean body, the angular face and the flyaway hair that goes in what seems to be every direction. He's beaming at her and it brightens his face making him look quite handsome.

"Nice to meet you, Rose!" He shakes her hand with enthusiasm. "How about I get you a coffee to make up for the way K-9 here tried to barrel you over."

Rose lets her tongue flit to the corner of her mouth as she says, "Make it chips and we have a deal."

She ends up paying for the chips when his hands upturn empty pockets. She finds that she doesn't mind so much, especially when he asks her if maybe she wants to meet up again next week.

John knocks over an apple stand the next time she sees him, the ripe fruit spilling out on the streets. She'd just been on her way over to meet him and she stops dead in her tracks as she watches the scene unfold, as the man behind the stand begins pointing angrily at John. He's holding his hands out in front of him, a wide eyed look on face. When his eyes dart around looking for an escape, he catches her eyes and suddenly his face splits into a smile.

"Run!" He grabs her hand and drags her away from the shouting vendor. They skid around a corner and immediately double over laughing.

"You just can't stay out of trouble can you?"

"Hey," he says indignantly. "I was the one who valiantly rescued you last week when you were cornered in that alleyway, eh? Jeopardy friendly, that's what you are!"

"Yeah okay I'm jeopardy friendly despite the fact that it was your dog that I needed rescuing from," she says, rolling her eyes. But she can't quite hide the smile quirking up her lips.

They begin walking back towards her house, hands intertwined, still joking and laughing and unabashedly flirting.

They pretend not to see the appalled looks of the people they pass by.

He's over enthusiastic about everything, she learns, as the days go by. He'll ramble on for hours about the most mundane things, then again about subjects that fly right over her head. She's entranced by the cadence of his voice, by the galaxies that swim in his eyes. It's almost like he's from another world.

He takes her on adventures around town, visiting places that she's seen thousands of times, but seem brand new when she's standing next to him. Everything looks vibrant, pulsing with life and beauty. Whenever she's with him, she finds herself wondering if maybe she's finally solved the mystery and all without ever having found the elusive color she'd been waiting for all her life.

She's never felt quite as happy as she does when she's with John.

"It's not decent, Rose," her mother tells her one day. "Spending all that time with that man. That's not a proper life."

She wants to argue, wants to tell her that the only time she's ever felt truly at home is when she's in his arms, but something in her mother's face makes her hold her tongue. She looks...frightened.

"Rose," she says, and her hands are on her shoulders. "You've got to promise me you'll stay away from him. People are starting to talk."

"I don't think I can."

One day, John tells her that he has a surprise for her. It's formal, he says, and she finds herself donning a slim fitting dress, her hair curled around her shoulders and a necklace resting against her collar.

"Blimey, you look beautiful," he tells her when he picks her up at her door. A blush warms her cheeks and she smiles shyly up at him. He's dressed impeccably in a three piece suit and she eyes him appreciatively.

"Not so bad yourself."

He grins back at her, offering his arm and she calls out a goodbye to her mum, too enchanted by the man in front of her to notice the disapproving look she's sending their way (not that it matters anyway since she's heard it all before by now).

John, to her immense surprise, takes her to a classy restaurant. He opens the door for her, pulls out her chair, and even pays for the meal (claiming that he owes her after all the chips she's bought him). It feels sort of like a date, if those kinds of things were allowed between people who weren't matches.

He spends the night regaling her with stories of the places he's traveled, weaving tales that leave her laughing and breathless. When the night is over he walks her to the porch and whispers her name in that way only he can. His hand cups her cheek and his thumb brushes over the skin making her shiver. His eyes look warm. So, so warm. Her heart is beating harder than it ever has before and she wonders if he'll dare kiss her. She wonders if she'll let him. But at the last minute he turns away and walks back to his car and Rose remembers how to breathe again.

It's like something out of a fairytale, she thinks, the way he makes her feel.

She's a bit nervous the first time she goes to his house. She feels jumpy and on edge, aware how frowned upon it is to enter a man's home when he isn't your match. If John notices he doesn't say anything. Just grips her hand tighter.

His house turns out to be as cluttered as his brain seems to be. He has to kick bits of wire and piles of books out of the way to make a path for her to walk through.

"Sorry about the mess," he says, grimacing a bit and running a hand through his hair.

"'M not really surprised," she teases.

"Oi! Are you saying I'm dirty, Rose Tyler?" He's moved closer to her, his eyebrow (that damn eyebrow) raised at her in a rather flirtatious manner. She finds herself moving closer as well, smiling coyly back at him. The nervousness is long gone by now soothed away by his presence, by the comfortable intimacy between them.

"Well, I wouldn't really know now would I? Not yet anyway." She winks at him and laughs when he gapes at her like a fish.

They end up eating takeaway on his ratty old couch.

Later that night, standing out in a field away from town, the stars shine brighter than they ever have before to Rose's eyes. John is humming a soft tune behind her and she's never felt quite so content.

"Did you see that?" she asks, tracing the path that a shooting star just took across the night sky. She feels John nod from where his head rests against her shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist from behind.

"And did you make a wish?"

Her heart flutters in her chest when he says, "Don't need to."

It doesn't stop her from making her own.

Every now and then, they take a day to relax, sitting underneath a large tree that offers shade against the hot sun, away from the prying eyes of the public. Wild flowers dot along the hill and he's spread out a blanket in the grass for them to lounge on. She dozes as he reads a book, her head laying on his lap.

One of his hands is playing with her hair, twirling the strands around his fingers. Eventually he gives up all pretenses of reading and takes to inspecting her hair, holding the strands up to the sunlight.

"'S just hair," she says amusedly.

"Your hair," he counters, bopping her on the nose. "Which means it's extra special. Precious even. Like gold." He hums in the back of his throat. "My golden-haired Rose."

For a moment warmth suffuses her at the tender quality of his voice, then the other shoe drops.

"Wait," she says, scrambling upwards. "Do you mean like-"

She can't finish the sentence because she's caught sight of his eyes, wide and panicked. Her hand touches her hair, pulling the strands towards her own eyes. Varying shades of black and grey, as always, meet her gaze, but she's heard that word before. Gold. One of the many colors she's learned about in school. It could have just been an expression, but judging by the look on his face, she doesn't think so.

"I never thought to ask," she says, shaking her head. "I always just assumed that-that you were like me."

"I'm sorry, Rose." He takes her hand. "I was going to tell you, I just..." He shrugs helplessly.

"So you can see it then? Color?"

"Yeah, my...my, well, she died awhile back." He shudders. Her heart feels tight in her chest when she sees the hurt in his eyes. She thinks about her mum, all alone now too, missing her other half.

"Oh, John. I'm so sorry. That's-that's horrible."

"We were friends, Romana and I. But I wasn't in love with her. Not like-" He shakes his head, eyes darting up to hers in a quick move before he looks down again. "They always told us that when it happened it would feel right. A whole new world, they said. Brightness and adventure. But it didn't feel like that." He looks towards the trees behind them, not meeting her gaze. "I rebelled against the system, refused to marry her. It...they killed her, Rose. My fault. It was my fault. And now I'm alone."

"There's me," she finds herself whispering.

John's eyes meet hers and she sees the hurt and loneliness there, and it's always been there she realizes, lurking underneath the surface of his exuberance and endless enthusiasm. Even if she didn't know what it was. She lets her hand brush across his cheek, wiping away a tear.

"And how long," John says, his voice shaky, "are you going to stay with me?"

She doesn't even have to think about it. "Forever."

When his lips meet hers it's the first time that she thinks she will be perfectly content to always see the world in black and white. As long as she gets to see it with him.

The fairytale ends, like it was always going to, like it must, a few days later. She's on her way down to the market and there's a dark-skinned man that she bumps right into as she's picking up groceries for her mum. Suddenly her world turns upside down. Everything bursts to life, vibrant and bright, nearly blinding everywhere she looks. Her eyes scan around her in wonder as what has to be color bursts across her retinas. But when she turns to face the man again, his own eyes alight with the same wondrous look as he beams at her so wide she thinks it might split his face, reality sinks back in hard. Rose stumbles backwards from him.

He doesn't look deterred as he hold out a hand to her. "'Ello," he says, bright and eager. "The name's Mickey."

She looks at his outstretched hand, then his face, then back to his hand and feels her stomach roil. Panic hits her like a tidal wave.

"Miss?"

"I...I can't I-"she gasps out and then she fleas, running as fast and far as she can away from the future that she doesn't want anymore. Not if it isn't with John.

She collapses against his chest when she arrives at his home, her eyes filled with tears. K-9 barks and howls as she sobs against his chest. His hands run soothingly up and down her back. He doesn't say anything and neither does she.

Rose wakes up blearily, rubbing at her eyes to try and gather her bearings. She's shocked to find that somehow she's back in her own bed. She remembers distinctly falling asleep in John's arms last night.

She slowly sits up as her eyes try to adjust to the dark, wondering if perhaps it had all been a terrible dream. But no, she can see the bright colors of her room, staring back at her mockingly.

Quiet murmurings from the kitchen catches her attention and slowly she edges towards the door, keeping her footsteps feather light.

She only catches snippets of the conversation. Phrases like "not safe" and "catch on" and "dangerous" and "promise me."

She can hear the grimness in John's own voice. His soft, "I know." His careful, "I promise." His gentle, "I'll keep her safe."

The way he says it makes her heart ache.

She touches his hair, the dark strands the same color as his eyes, his suit. "Brown," he tells her, voice soft and tired.

He looks strange, standing there in her kitchen, her mother just a few steps away. She looks at the two of them with eyes that Rose can't read and she notices that John's cheek is tinted with a color different than that of his skin. Something she wouldn't have noticed before the change. It's in vaguely the shape of a hand print.

"Brown," she repeats because the silence is starting to itch under her skin. "I like it."

She doesn't ask them what they were talking about before she came in. She knows already.

"We can run away," she says one afternoon, the words escaping her on a rushed breath.

They've taken to meeting in an old, run down cottage deep in the forest where no one will see them. It's mostly made up of grey stones, the color that her whole world used to be. She sometimes finds herself staring at the familiar color the same way she used to stare at those paintings when she was younger.

The door, however, is a brilliant shade of blue and her eyes often stray there, as well. Still mystified by the brilliance of color, wondering how seeing something so lovely could feel so horrible and wrong.

When John remains silent she feels the desperation that is sitting in the pit of her stomach grow. "We could see the world. Travel. Just like...just like we always talked about."

"They'd find you." His voice is flat, his eyes unseeing. "Maybe if he hadn't seen you. But now he'll be looking for you and word will get around. The elders will know soon enough and then they'll find you and they'll kill you. No, I can't-" He shakes his head.

Rose feels as if her heart is shattering in her chest. "What do we do?"

"You need to stay away from me."

Rose sucks in a sharp breath at his unexpectedly cold words. "What no!"

"It's dangerous, Rose. If they find out about us...and they're already suspicious as it is. I have to keep you safe. I can't let what happened before happen to you."

"No, I won't." She's shaking, her breath leaving her in short gasps. "You can't make me! That's not an option, that's not- You showed me a better way to live! I don't- I don't want to go back!"

"Forget me, Rose Tyler."

She searches for him. The chip shop, his house, the cottage. All over town her eyes stray towards pinstripes, her heart jumps at the sight of wild, brown hair. It's been days, weeks and she hasn't seen him once. He's left her behind, off on a new adventure without her.

She doesn't know if she can live with the fact that she might never see him again.

She apologizes to Mickey at her mother's insistence. She tells him she was overwhelmed and he laughs and says he understands. He throws an arm around her shoulder and asks her to go to the pub with him. She nods because her mouth is too dry to speak.

He's sweet enough, earnest and attentive. He tells her about his job as a mechanic and stories about his mate Jake and his Gran. She doesn't say much, but he fills the silence and tells her how happy he is to finally meet her. When he grabs her hand from across the table, she's hit by the realization that this is going to be her life now. Beans on toast and telly and going to the pub with Mickey. This is it for her.

She thinks she might be sick.

There's an older woman sitting a few tables away. Sunglasses cover her eyes and reddish blonde hair curls around her shoulders. She watches them with an approving look.

That night she doesn't touch her food and her mother gives her worrying glances all throughout dinner. Only the clatter of forks and knives on plates fills up the silence growing between them. Rose pushes her potatoes to one side of the plate then the other then divides them up into two piles. She looks at the separated mounds of starch as if they have personally offended her.

"Are you alright, Rose?"

"'M fine."

Jackie purses her lips. "Did you at least have a nice time with Mickey tonight? He seems like a very sweet boy."

Rose stares at her for a moment and then her lip trembles and tears fill her eyes uncontrollably. A sob leaves her throat.

"Oh sweetheart." Jackie gathers her up into a hug, making soothing noises as she brushes a hand through her hair the same way she used to do when she was younger. The same way John did before he left.

"I love him, mum." They both know she isn't talking about Mickey. "It doesn't make sense does it? It's not fair. Why isn't he...why isn't he my..."

"Shh, hush now. The elders don't make mistakes. You'll see. You'll see."

Rose doesn't believe her, not one bit.

Mickey proposes. She says yes.

Days go by and despite the reds and blues of the world, the dark navies and dots of light that brighten the sky, the world around her feels more dull than it ever has before. Sometimes her mum tries to cheer her up with talk of wedding plans ("Remember when you were a little girl, Rose? You always dreamed about your wedding day with your prince charming, eh?"). She talks of picking out flowers and dresses and cakes and ribbons. Her voice always chipper and bright as if Rose doesn't feel like she's slowly falling apart.

She knows that her mother is just trying to help, that she loves her and only wants the best for her, but Rose feels like she might strangle her if she says one more thing about the benefits of tulle in a wedding dress.

When she can hardly take it anymore she goes to the cottage, hand running along the smooth wood of the blue door. She presses her hand against it, resting her face alongside the wood, her breath slow and even. She pretends that John is on the other side, that the sound of the wind brushing through the leaves is him breathing; she stands there for hours to keep the illusion going.

It doesn't help.

"I love you."

A beat.

"I love you, too."

The lie tastes bitter in her throat.

When Rose enters the room, Jackie quickly changes the channel. She sets the clicker down on the coffee table by a cup of cold tea and gazes attentively at the drama (some bloody horror show). Rose raises an eyebrow.

"What this now? What're you trying to hide?" Rose suddenly feels a small smile quirk her lips. The first one in a very long time. This, this at least feels familiar. "Not another one of your ridiculous soaps was it?"

Her mother laughs weakly. "You know me, can't resist the darn things."

"Go on then. I won't judge. Much." Rose picks up the remote despite the protesting noises her mother makes. She hits the back button.

The remote drops from her hands and her head fills with white noise.

John's picture stares back at her. Words like dissenter and rebel and dangerous loop around her head like a noose tightening and choking her until she can't breathe.

"Did you know about this?" she demands, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Rose-"

She's shaking, anger ripping through her like a whip. "You did, you knew! Oh god!" Her hand comes up to her mouth in horror.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I know you're dealing with a lot, love."

"And you thought you would keep this from me!"

"I told you it was dangerous. I told you it was right from the beginning."

"It's why he left, you know," Rose finds herself saying. Her tone is empty now, the anger slowly draining out of her. She doesn't have enough energy anymore to be angry. "He left me because he said he was dangerous. He knew this would happen."

"He did the right thing, Rose. He kept you safe and god knows I hated him before, but I will always love him for that."

"I heard you guys talking in the kitchen, you know. When I first found out about Mickey. Did you plan this?" Rose's eyes are shining with tears and she dashes at them with her hand. She's rather sick of crying.

"I didn't know he would leave, sweetheart, but I can't say I'm not glad that he did."

Sometimes she walks around town, visiting the places they went together. People whisper as she walks by and she does her best to ignore their looks.

It's easier said than done since last time she was doing it John was holding her hand.

There's a knock on her door about a week before her wedding.

"Rose can you get that?"

"Yeah, I got it."

She opens it, bracing herself. Only Mickey ever comes around since she's a bit of a scandal these days and she's been finding it harder and harder to be around him. Instead of Mickey, however, there's a woman in an elegant black suit staring back at her, wearing a smile that makes Rose's stomach flip.

"Miss Tyler," she says, her eyes looking at her in a calculating manner. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Yvonne Hartman. I apologize for dropping in so unexpectedly, especially when things must be so very busy for your upcoming big day, yes?"

"It's...it's no problem." She opens the door wider because it is expected of her and the woman breezes in past her.

Jackie enters the room a moment later and Rose doesn't miss the way her eyes widen imperceptibly. "Everything alright out here," she asks, her voice careful and eyes narrowed.

"Mrs. Tyler, lovely to see you again. I just have a few things I need to discuss with your daughter and then I'll be on my way. Can I trouble you for some tea?" Her gaze doesn't leave Rose's.

"Of course," her mother says tightly. "I'll be right back."

The air feels heavy and thick around her as Yvonne steps closer to her, eyes like that of a serpent. "Where is he?" she asks, her voice cool and calm and deadly.

Rose's stomach drops. "I...I don't-"

"John Noble, where is he?"

"Who are you?" Rose demands when she gathers her bearing. She tilts her head up, trying to put on an air that she isn't at all frightened.

"I'm Torchwood and you best tell me what you know."

Rose has heard the name before. Only ever in whispers. She shudders.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mrs. Hartman, but like you said we are very busy here. I think it would be best if you left."

The woman narrows her eyes at Rose. She stares back defiantly and after a moment Yvonne turns and walks out the door. When she's gone, Rose lets out a ragged breath, collapsing in on herself.

Her mother doesn't say a word when she enters again with a tray of tea and biscuits. She sets the platter down and gathers her up in a hug.

Rose sleeps fitfully that night.

"How you holding up, babe? You look dead on your feet."

Rose brushes a piece of hair out of her eyes and looks down at the table. She stares at a ring of water on the thick wood. "Just, you know, my mum's driving me barmy with all the wedding stuff."

Mickey gives her a soft smile and grabs her hand across the table. Rose resists the urge to yank it away. "Well, in a few weeks time we won't have to worry about any of that anymore."

His thumb brushes across the back of her hand.

"Yeah," she says. "No more worries."

Yvonne Hartman is sitting a few tables away, watching them with beady eyes.

The waiting is the hardest bit. The clock slowly ticking away, time running out for her. The white dress sitting in her closet feels like a shackle.

She had thought it would never end when John had first taken her hand. She's not so naive now.

The night before her wedding, Rose can't sleep, which is how she hears the low, soft whimpering coming from outside. She pushes herself out of bed, padding on soft feet to the door. When she opens it, she thinks she might throw up.

K-9 is whimpering, laying by his owner's side. John is completely passed out, jaw slack and chest moving in slow breaths. Rose darts her eyes around frantically, looking for anything that might say he's been followed or that someone has seen him.

"Shit, shit, c'mere K-9, come inside boy!"

K-9 perks up at the sound of her voice and then hesitantly nudges his way in. Rose carefully grasps John underneath his armpits, pulling him in as well. K-9 makes another keening bark.

"What the bloody hell was that?" she hears her mum mutter from down the hall. The older woman enters the room, closing the tie of her night gown. Her eyes go large as saucers at what she sees.

"Help me with him, please."

Wordlessly, she helps her get John situated on the couch. He starts mumbling in his sleep, eye fluttering underneath his eyelids.

"Oh god, what's wrong with him?"

"I'll make tea," Jackie says calmly. "Go wet a wash cloth and put it on his forehead."

With trembling hands, Rose does as she's told, wiping away the sweat and grime. He twitches in his sleep and K-9 makes another whimpering sound.

She doesn't leave his side all night, doesn't touch the tea that her mother leaves on the end table for her. Her hand strokes along K-9's ear because if she doesn't do something with her hands she's going to lose her mind.

She feels raw, just looking at him. Anger and terror and love all battling for dominance in her heart.

"Rose?"

She jolts at the sound of his voice and finds tears filling her eyes as she stares at him.

"Long time no see," he says and she would slap him if she wasn't so happy that he's okay.

"Yeah, been busy, you know," she says through her tears.

His hand comes up to wipe them away. "I'm sorry."

"You're here now, that's what matters. Well, the timing could be better. S'not really safe here for you. I'm being watched, John, all the time."

"That's why I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here at all, but I...I didn't know where else to go."

"What happened to you? Where've you been?"

"Around," he says, evasively. When she snatches her hand from his he lets out a long sigh. "With my sister, Donna, most of the time. Torchwood caught on though and I had to leave. I ran for a while, staying with friends when I could, but I had to keep moving."

"Torchwood. They came here, asking about you. They've been watching me ever since."

John's face turns grim. "They killed Romana. They're dangerous, Rose. Their job is to kill those who try to go against their way of thinking." His hand comes up and when she closes her eyes instinctively, his fingers gently sweep across the lids. "They do this, you know. When you're born, they match you up with someone that will balance you out, keep you in line. It's based off this program they have. People are being conditioned to fall in love with one another."

"What does that mean?"

"Think about it. Think about what it was like to see color for the first time. It was overwhelming, incredible. Some of the strongest feelings you've ever felt in your life. And they're associated with this one person, this one person who you've been told you've been looking for your whole life. Your soul mate. How could you not? How could you not fall in love with this person?"

"You didn't," Rose points out, her eyes still closed, his hand now cupped around her face. She takes in a shaky breath. "I didn't."

John smiles. "When I first met Romana, I began researching into it because I knew something wasn't right. But when I got too close, they killed her as a warning. Then I met you and now they think I'm trying to break apart everything they've worked for again. And they're right. I tried to live peacefully under the radar after her death, but you're worth fighting for, Rose Tyler." He takes in a shuddering breath and she feels it deep in her bones. "But I've put you in danger now. They won't stop until they get me. I know too much. I should have stayed away."

She opens her eyes. "I won't let them take you."

"You might not have a choice."

"Just like I didn't have a choice when you left me behind," she snaps, the anger that had been sitting in her stomach all this time spilling over uncontrollably.

"Rose, I promised your mother I would keep you safe. You must know that I didn't want to leave. I-I missed you so much."

"I'm getting married tomorrow, you know."

Silence. John's eyes slide away from hers and for a moment Rose feels satisfaction at the hurt in his eyes, but the feeling quickly passes.

"You can't stay here that's for sure. And I imagine your house is being watched as well."

John grabs her hand again. "I'll leave tomorrow, Rose. I promise. Just tonight and then I'll be gone."

She scoffs. "You think that's what I want? For you to leave me again? Have you even been listening to me? No." She grabs his face between her hands and his eyes widen. Her thumb brushes across his cheek.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she says just before she kisses him.

She misses her wedding.

In the end, they decide they can't tell her mother where they're going. Not if they want to keep her safe. Jackie is furious, begging her not to leave. There's nothing Rose can say to make it better, to make any of this better. John stands off to the side, looking at his feet. Blaming himself likely.

"I have to mum, we have to put a stop to this. Besides, everyone leaves home in the end." It isn't any consolation, but it has to be enough for now.

"Tell Mickey I'm sorry."

John's hand is a comforting weight in hers as they step into the dark night. She turns to look at him and he meets her eyes with a somber gaze.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere," he says. "Everywhere."

"And if they find us?"

"Then we run."

They do.