A/N: Here is that alternate ending I promised! Hope you enjoy :)

Alternate ending:

Sleep tight, I'm not afraid
The ones that we love are here with me
Lay away a place for me
Cause as soon as I'm done I'll be on my way
To live eternally.

- Avenged Sevenfold

There is a woman who lives at the rest home who tells the most amazing stories. She is bright and happy and chats with the other residents as Maggie, a twenty-five year old orderly, watches. She thinks that perhaps growing old won't be so bad if she turns out like this woman. This Rose Tyler.

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Rose had poked old Mr. Franklin in the chest with her cane when he tried to pinch Maggie's bum while she was passing out fruit cups. The talking to the little old woman gave him made Maggie have to fight the strongest urge to giggle she has ever felt. Maggie's own grandmother has passed away not too long ago and this tiny terror of a woman had some of that same light inside of her.

After her shift was over Maggie would chat with the spunky older woman. She very soon came to consider Rose Tyler a friend. A friend who tells the best stories.

Maggie listens with wide eyes as Rose tells stories of amazing places. Of the end of the world and the beginning of adventure. Of aliens who lived and loved and hated as much as any human. But mainly Rose speaks of a man with two faces, leather jackets and pinstriped suits and the human girl who loved him.

Maggie watches on Saturday nights as Rose would lay out a pretty dress and brush her hair a little more carefully. Sundays were special, Sundays he came to visit. Maggie never sees him. No one did. Except Rose. She chatters away to the air by her side. She was ninety years old, she was senile. That is what all the nurses and orderlies said.

Perhaps that is true. But Maggie wonders. She wonders because of the light in Rose's eyes on Sundays. She wonders because out of the corner of her eye she saw a messy haired man wearing a pinstriped suit and trainers. Maggie wonders in the way that a child wonders if her toys are alive. Closing the door to the playroom and opening it again quick-as-you-can to see if she can catch them moving.

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There is always a last day. When you've worked at a rest home long enough you start to sence when it is close. Maggie can see the last day coming for Rose. She doesn't walk anymore, but rests in her wheelchair outside in the garden. She still tells stories. But Maggie catches sight of a tear or two making their way down papery cheeks as Rose speaks of adventure. There is regret in the old woman's voice. The kind of regret that is too heavy for such fragile shoulders to bear. Rose tells Maggie that she regrets not having enough time with him.

Maggie asks who he is, and Rose says, "The Doctor."

Maggie asks, "Doctor who?"

Rose only smiles.

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It is a Saturday night and Maggie is helping Rose change into her pretty yellow night dress. Maggie brushes Rose's hair because tomorrow is Sunday and Rose cannot lift the brush anymore. The brush catches on the silver chain that Rose always wears around her neck.

"Maggie," Rose catches the young woman's hand with her own fragile one, "Tell my stories someday, to someone... anyone... Would you?"

Their eyes meet in the mirror in front of them and Maggie cannot say no.

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It is Sunday and the Doctor is there with her. He holds her hand. No one can see him, but she has long since stopped wondering why.

Rose fades in and out of consciousness, and each time she comes back to him she is grateful for the sight of his face. Her hand strokes his messy hair.

"Doctor, would you open the window? I want to see the stars." He pulls the window open for her and sits down by her side once more.

"Rose Tyler." He smiles at her. "Rose Tyler, are you ready for an adventure?"

"With you, Doctor? Always."

He leans close. Whispers in her ear, "Run." She takes his hand and slips away into darkness. She doesn't open her eyes again.

The clock on the bedside table says 11:59pm. Until it doesn't. And then, suddenly, it's not Sunday anymore.

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When Maggie comes to work early on Monday morning she finds her friend in her bed. The windows are open to the let in the sky and a pink and yellow rose lays by her side.

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Twenty years earlier Rose hadn't gotten to the Doctor in time. She had carried her groceries home. She had heard the sound of the TARDIS in torment. She had run as hard and as fast as fragile bones could bear... But she hadn't run fast enough. The TARDIS doors had closed in her face.

Twenty years earlier the Doctor had burned inside the TARDIS as Rose beat her fists bloody on her walls.

The Doctor had died. Rose had lived. She had mourned him. She had told their story. And at the end of her time the Doctor had come back for her... to bring her home.

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Maggie tells Rose's stories to her daughters and grandchildren. In her home, by Maggie's rocking chair Rose Tyler and the Doctor are forever more the stuff of legend.