Original author's note: So this is my first attempt at a Doctor Who fanfic, and my first attempt at fanfic in general in quite a long time. This idea has been floating around in my head for awhile now and I suddenly find myself with some uninterrupted time on my hands to write, so here goes… Please let me know what you think, I would love suggestions for the future, both story wise and to make my writing more palatable.

Going with what actually was shown on the show for canon at the end of Journey's End, so Rose and Alt 10 didn't have a baby TARDIS. (sorry)

Also, I am American, so British accents are somewhat beyond me, in speech and certainly in written dialogue. Might try a bit, but probably not effectively.

Hope you enjoy!

New author's note: In an attempt to get myself back into the groove of this story and continuing the sequel, I have been rereading the older chapters. As much as I know that writing without a beta leads to the kind of mistakes that I tend to make… I am still rather embarrassed by how very many typos and issues there are. So I am going to be very belatedly proofreading and updating all of these chapters.

The bad news with that is that if by some miracle, people are still following me hoping for updates… They will be disappointed to be getting no new content. The upside however is that doing this has spurred me on out of writers block and I am now writing new chapters for the sequel to this story. So if you all bear with me a little longer, you will hopefully be happy.

Also, I own nothing.

Chapter one

Rose sat on the rather uncomfortable folding chair, staring at the ground in front of the podium that the priest stood behind. She let his words wash over her, not really discerning what was being said. She was simply experiencing the cadence of his speech, the rise and fall of his voice.

She turned her gaze to her hands in her lap, the flower she was holding, a stupid rose, was looking worse for the wear as she realized the had been clenching the hands holding it into tight fists. She consciously relaxed her fingers, numbly fascinated at the drop of blood that was welling up where a thorn had pricked her palm. It seemed she was jeopardy friendly even now, with a stupid flower.

She took a breath and let her eyes dart upwards for a moment, wondering how the sun could possibly be shining. How there could be birds singing. How the breeze could continue to blow through the leaves in the trees around them.

The sky should be weeping; the very universe itself should be grief stricken over what had happened. She felt offended, in a deep way that went beyond any paradox of time and space, this was wrong. The world couldn't just keep going.

It was unacceptable.

She was vaguely aware that the sermon had ended and felt physically stricken, as the group of people at the gravesite seemed to be holding in a collective breath waiting for her next actions. She stood jerkily and stepped forward, her head bowed and her eyes hidden behind the large black sunglasses she was wearing. She took another step and put the mangled flower she had been holding on the casket, her lips moving as she mumbled something. No words were actually forthcoming, but the tone must have been appropriate, as people didn't seem scandalized. Maybe they just thought that her grief had made her words unintelligible. And it had, her grief had stolen her words completely. She could think of nothing to say, and simply turned and blindly made her way back to her chair, sitting heavily and returning her gaze to the ground.

The people around her had started to move, a low murmur taking place as they mingled, having conversations in low voices. She ignored them, and people were uncomfortable enough around her in the best of times, that now, in the worst of them, they were content to leave her alone. Side benefit of being a freak, that. She sat, staring at her palm, at the small wound there and the little bit of blood, fixating on that as the area cleared. She was almost unaware of time passing; when she next looked up she realized that she was alone. The only people nearby were the workers, waiting to clear up the area.

She stood slowly, feeling so very old all of a sudden, deep within her bones as she made her way to the parking area. She reached into her bag for her keys and unlocked her car, sliding into the drivers seat and then just sitting there. She took off her sunglasses and stared into the sky, watching as the sun burst into a brilliant ball of color before settling, dropping below the horizon. She continued to sit and stare as twilight became full dark, the stars twinkling mockingly at her from above the earth.

Rose let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and closed her eyes tightly, she was angry with herself for her lack of tears. She felt so desolate inside; so empty that she was sure she should be sobbing uncontrollably. It seemed to be almost disrespectful in her mind that she couldn't seem to cry. She had wept almost non stop when her mother had died, she had felt so adrift that the only thing anchoring her had been John's steady presence at her side, and the knowledge that he had felt Jackie's loss nearly as deeply as herself even if he would never have admitted it. She had been similarly inconsolable at Pete's funeral, only throwing herself into work, continuing to protect the earth and making sure that the power vacuum at Torchwood that he left behind had been filled had allowed her to continue with life. When her brother had been lost on a mission, her grief and anger had threatened to consume her. She thought it ironic really that the Oncoming Storm beside her had managed to calm her, to keep her from lashing out and making the universe feel her pain. They had made peace with that race; the misunderstanding of their first contact was now an example promoting caution and diplomacy.

Her head spun as she thought back on the people she had lost, culminating in him.

Her Doctor.

She had not accepted him easily, had wasted a stupid amount of time that they could have been happily together trying to convince herself that he wasn't really him. She regretted that, that wasted time, especially when they started to realize what was happening. She really was a stupid ape, her lips almost twitched, like they might just remember how to smile as she thought those words.

How ironic life was really. He had been so desperate to protect himself from the eventuality of her death, from feeling too deeply, and now she had been the one to watch him wither and die while she remained… unaging and undying, the small remains of the time vortex still swirling in her veins. She took a deep breath and started the car, listening as it purred to life, she sat a moment longer before putting it in gear and driving away. She went towards the office; where there was work always to be done that she could lose herself in. The Bad Wolf she was. And now she was alone.

The universe truly was a bitch.