Ashes ~ (a TenRose Fanfiction)

Come Home

~Chapter 10
-Jackie's POV (interlude)

***

The first time I saw it was on the news. I sat with my eyes glued to the screen, barely moving. "Missing plane over Atlantic Ocean" was the first headline I saw. I convinced myself it wasn't Rose for days. But when her usual "we're here safe" text didn't come through I knew it had been her and the Doctors plane to go missing. The chances she was alive were so little I had completely lost hope. I was curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea which had now grown cold and salty with my tears. I had cried more than I had in my whole life, and I wasn't ready to loose her, especially without saying goodbye. A knock on the door breaks me out my reverie, but I don't even budge from my warm spot on the sofa. I wait a minute and then there's comes another banging in the door. My eyes drift to the corner, eyeing the door and silently wishing that whoever it was they would just leave. Tear stained and cold, I wipe the back of my eyes with my sleeve and lean back against the sofa, curling myself back into a little ball. When the sound comes again, I push myself off the sofa. I make for my bedroom door, planning to lock myself in my room. But then the letter box opens.
"Jackie, it's Marge. Please let me in" my neighbour peers through the the letter box, and I stop, meeting her eyes. For a moment I don't know what to do. I've not spoken to anyone for 4 days now, since the plane was reported missing. But Marge is trust worthy, and her eyes shine with kindness from the simple metres that she is away from me. So I find myself slowly walking to the door and unlocking it. When I open it I find that she has now stood, and I'm surprised she's not brought any flowers, or the angrily patronising "I'm sorry for your loss" cards which have recently been arriving at my door. It's a relief just to see someone familiar.
"Oh, Jacks, look at you" she says, eyes full of sympathy "Come 'ere" I find myself being pulled into her embrace, and strangely enough I find I'm hugging her back. My eyes well up with tears. Soon enough I'm crying so hard I don't think I can breathe, my whole body convulsing with what feels like an unbearable pain.
"She's gone, Marge. She's gone" I splutter against her shoulder. I feel Marge's gentle hands smooth my back as my tears form a waterfall down onto her shoulder.
"Come on Jacks, let's go inside" she says, and pulls back, leading me into my own flat and shutting the door firmly behind her. When she sees the state of  the flat I expect her to grimace, or perhaps leave right there and then, but she doesn't. She stays. In fact, she does more than that, she sits me down and promises me "a nice warm cuppa". She clears away my coffee table piled full of tissues and half-full, neglected cups of tea which have now turned murky and cold in the days they have sat there, neglected. Then she turns on the TV and puts on Eastenders, but turns the volume down low so a little background noise fills the dead space hanging in the air. I offer to help with the tea, but my voice comes back muffled by my tears, she shakes her head and tells me to sit back.
Soon enough she's returned, two hot cups of tea in her hand. She takes a seat next to me in the sofa, and places the tea in front of us. Seeing I'm still crying, she hands me a tissue from the box beside her, and I nod appreciating lay and blow my nose.
"Thanks for coming, Marge, really" I say, feeling tears peaking at my eyes again. I do my best to suppress them.
"No fuss, Jacks. I just thought you might need someone to talk to"
"She's all I had. And she's gone"
"Now come on, don't think like that" Marge says sympathetically.
"Do you think she's still out there?" I say, blowing my nose again and wiping my sore eyes. Marge reaches for my hand across the sofa.
"I don't know. But I'd certainly like to think so" she says with a small smile.
"I just - I guess I've gotta have some hope, y'know?" My voice comes back almost a whisper.
"'Course y'do. Life's nothin' without it"
"Yeah" I say, my voice trailing off. All I can picture is their plane falling out the sky, and her beautiful smile wiped straight off her face as they fall. I can barely think of it, and turn away, biting my knuckles and closing my eyes. Marge places her tea on the table and takes mine from my hands, placing it beside hers. She moves across the sofa and puts a friendly arm round me.
"I'm 'ere for you Jacks" Marge says, looking at me "I will never be able to understand the pain like you, and I can't imagine what would 'appen if it 'ad been one of my boys. But I can help. In any way possible"
"Thanks" I whisper "really, thank you" the tears have come on again now, and Marge pulls me against her, holding me close. Even though we're the same age it feels like a motherly gesture, and again I'm welled up just thinking about a mother, and how a should've been there for Rose and stopped that plane before they flew off. Minutes pass between us, and my crying slows. Marge doesn't let go of me, but after a while she speaks up.
"Who's that? By Rose?" I follow her extended finger pointing to a framed picture on the shelf. It was taken back last Christmas, under the falling ash. I can remember pulling out my mobile and telling the pair to turn round and face me for a photo. The Doctor had at first protested, but Rose had nudged his shoulder and said something along the lines of "it's Christmas" so he had given in and wrapped his arms around Rose, them both smiling like they never wanted to let go.
"That's the Doctor," I almost choke out the words "He...he was with her on the plane"
"Were they together?" She asks, looking over at me. I shake my head.
"Not really. Things are we complicated between 'em. She loved him for sure, though" that brings a small smile to my face "every time she was with him her eyes would just...have this sorta sparkle...and he'd look at her like she was the most important woman on the universe" My words still Marge for a second, as if she's thinking of something to say. She picks up her tea and takes a small sip.
"It's good she had someone with her, someone she loved"
"Yeah" I say sadly, but knowing Marge is right. Then I realise something "Oh God Marge, I'm already thinking about them both in the past tense!"
"What?" She asks, taking a sip of her tea.
"I can't even say, "Rose is" or "The Doctor looks" it's all "was and looked""
"Oh, Jackie. Come on, don't loose hope" she says, and squeezes my shoulder.
"I just wish she'd come home" I say, and put my head in my hands.
"I know, I know"