Rose stumbles through the seething masses of people on the bank of the Loch. She can't quite get her balance. She thinks she might even be about to be sick.

Two people are dead, just because Torchwood had been too far away. With all of their technology, it had still taken hours to get the team up into Scotland, and by then it had been too late.

The aliens are contained, and the public is safe once more, but that means nothing at all to the families of those who were lost. For that reason, Rose can't take any comfort from it either.

She's been talking to the members of those families for nearly two hours now. She's been subject to judging eyes and harsh words all the while. She just needs a moment to gather herself.

She doesn't get one.

The jackals descend in her moment of weakness. They always do, lately.

It disgusts her, even as it overwhelms her.

Two people are dead, and now she's being swarmed by people wanting a sound bite from her. They don't care about the deaths. They just think it makes for a great story to blame such a tragedy on someone who is already so famous.

As if she needs anyone else blaming her. She's doing a great job of that herself already, thanks.

Even through the dizziness, Rose can see the Doctor push through the throng to reach her side. He tries to shield her as best he can from the convergence of eager journalists shoving both microphones and cameras at her. He's largely unsuccessful. He can't stop them from talking, after all. Their voices all blend together, but Rose can still somehow hear every word of accusation. The flashing of multiple cameras mere feet away from her is nearly blinding.

She's spent months now – maybe even all of the years since she first ended up in this universe and was introduced as Pete Tyler's daughter, if she's honest – feeling like an exhibit at a zoo. Now it's apparently coupon day, and all of the population has taken advantage of the free-for-all to come and gawk at her. There's just so many of them, and it's the last thing she needs right now.

She needs to not be here, but there's nowhere to go. They'll just follow her. She's been through this sort of thing enough times before to know that much.

She wishes, hardly for the first time, that the TARDIS was still standing by as an escape route. Rose has long since started to understand why the Doctor never likes sticking around for the cleanup. This is far from the first time she's been mobbed like this. It just happens to be somehow worse this time, because it's just the last straw.

She can't take it.

She catches sight of a way out, then. She meets the Doctor's eyes, her own expression begging, and says, "Run!" as she catches his hand in hers.

He launches into a sprint barely a split second after she pulls at his hand to direct him. They rush through the crowd, ducking and weaving. The press lag just far enough behind them to give the illusion of freedom. The Doctor's step doesn't falter for a moment when he sees where they're headed and he catches on to her plan. She's glad. She doesn't know what she'd do if he wasn't willing to stick by her side just then.

They hit the beginning of the pier and gather speed as they near their destination. When they fling themselves off the end, for a moment Rose feels like she's flying. The world falls away just as she'd hoped it would.

The plunge into the water comes just a moment after Rose gasps in a breath and closes her eyes.

She finds that it's like sensory deprivation, and that's just what she needs. The sound of the gentle waves lapping away on the surface above her is muffled, and all she can see is the slightly red-tinged darkness behind her own eyelids. The only thing that really still registers fully there in the water is her touch sense. The cold bites slightly at her nerve endings. Tiny bubbles tickle their way up across her skin as they make their way back to the surface. The Doctor's hand tightens slightly in hers.

With the rest of it taken away and that connection to him highlighted for her, the importance of that simple touch becomes clear. The feel of his hand in hers gives her strength. He's right there with her, ready to run and jump alongside her without any explanation being necessary. In retrospect, she realises that that's enough that she should be able to cope with the rest. He'll be right beside her to help her deal, when she needs him. She can't believe that she's forgotten just how essential that fact is until this very moment.

She's still sad for the loss of those two people, and the journalists still drive her mad, but that doesn't mean she can't face those things. Not if he's there beside her.

When she breaches the surface and fills her lungs with air again, Rose doesn't even need the Doctor to pull her up. She emerges all on her own.

She opens her eyes to see the Doctor, whose hair is plastered down over his eyes. He flicks his head back, causing a spray of water to shoot off his fringe as it flops back. Water still clumps his eyelashes together and runs down his face in thick rivulets like tears. But he grins at her, and Rose thinks that for once they'd at least be tears of happiness.

Just beyond the Doctor's shoulder, there's still a whole crowd of people, including her Torchwood team, staring at the two of them as if they're completely insane. Camera flashes pepper the crowd, no doubt catching snaps to be plastered all over tomorrow morning's papers of the Vitex heiress and her partner having thrown themselves fully-dressed into the Loch. The press has managed to get even more than they'd actually come looking for this time. They probably think they've just witnessed her having a mental breakdown.

For once, Rose just can't bring herself to care, because nothing could be further from the truth. She's not breaking down. She's coming back to life.

She takes in the scene, and all she can do is laugh and laugh and laugh.

~FIN~