A Confusion of Smiths.

Chapter 4.

Ahhh, tea…Nigel sat down happily at the kitchen table, his fingers curled around a steaming mug. It had been a long busy day of first classes, and then helping at the clinic. Being a doctor was hard. But, nothing like a good cup of tea to restore oneself, thought Nigel, leaning back against his chair.

"NIGEL!" Declan burst into the kitchen, face white, hair awry.

"Achtphpt!" spluttered Nigel, spilling tea all over himself. "Ah, damnit, my jacket…Wait, what? What's going on?"

Declan paced up and down the kitchen frantically. 'It's Rose! I was talking to her…and then she was GONE! I could hear something over the other end, and then she just vanished, and we were talking about important things, and what if something happened to her!?"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," said Nigel, standing up (a little regretfully) from his tea. "She's with Jackie. Nothing gets through Jackie." And this was a fact. Nigel had met Jackie, and could say beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was one of the most intimidating humans he had ever met.

This, however, did not comfort Declan at all. 'No! That's just it! Jackie went away for the weekend with some of her girlfriends, and ANYONE could easily break in!"

Nigel grabbed the swaying Declan by the shoulders. "Stop. Sit down. And then tell me exactly what happened."

His younger brother collapsed into the chair bonelessly. "So…I was talking to her—in the middle of saying very important, in fact—and then she told me to hold on, that someone was there. And she didn't know who it was, and then she broke off, and there was this weird noise like a thump…and then nothing! I called her name, but it was like she was in a different dimension, or something… Nigel, we have to go out there! NOW!"

For a moment Nigel considered telling him it was fine, he should calm down, but then he saw the fiery intensity in Declan's eyes, and he couldn't say no.

"Okay. Come on." Nigel grabbed the car keys, and they ran out of the house. Nigel almost ran back to tell Elliot where they were going, but then he remembered that Elliot was with those new friends of his… the Ponds, they were called. Declan went for the driver's seat, but Nigel restrained him.

"No. You'll drive us into another universe the state you're in now. I'm driving." For once, Declan was too distracted to argue. Nigel got in, turned on the engine, and then tore out of the driveway. As he drove, he caught little agitated movements out of the corner of his eye; Declan tapping his fingers, shifting in his seat, et cetera. But never, ever, in all his memory, had Nigel ever heard Declan so silent.

Even at their family's funeral, Declan had talked politely to the guests, and chattered meaninglessly. But from their house to Rose's apartment, Declan did not say a single word.

Rose's flat complex stood quietly in the shadows behind pools of lamplight. The moment Nigel skidded to a stop, Declan leapt out of the car, and ran towards the darkened building. Nigel's call to wait for him was drowned out by the sound of Declan's sneakers thudding up the stairs.

His heart nearly stopped when he got to her floor, and saw that the door to her flat was wide open.

Images of still forms, of splatters of blood, of glassy eyes, swirled throughout Declan's mind. The smell of burning flesh wafted through his memories as he took shaky steps forward. But when he pushed open the door, darkness was all that greeted him. That, and utter silence.

With fumbling fingers, Declan felt for the light switch he knew to be there, and flicked it on, and saw…nothing. Well, in a manner of speaking, of course. Empty mugs perched in unlikely hiding spots, discarded bits served as makeshift bits of decorations, and magazines dotted literally every surface imaginable.

But nothing was out of the ordinary. No blood. No dead bodies. And, despite the far-flung clutter, no evidence of a struggle. Declan released a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and made his way over to Rose's bedroom. He vaguely heard Nigel entering the flat, but saw no need to say anything to his brother.

Declan had been in Rose's bedroom a few times before, including one notable occasion when she painted his fingernails bright blue. But the room which had seemed so bright and cheery before, now seemed cold and empty with Rose gone. Then Declan saw it; Rose's mobile laying in the corner of the room, as though it had been flung there.

He hastily grabbed a shirt off Rose's bed, and, wrapping it around his fingers, crouched down to pick the mobile up. And as Declan was standing back up, his eye was caught by a few reddish-brown spots. For a moment he stared at them, head tilted sideways until he suddenly realized what is it was.

"Oh ye gods. Oh ye gods. OH YE GODS IT'S BLOOD. Nigel! Nigel, it's blood, it's blood, Nigel, oh what have they done to her, it's blood, oh ye gods…"

Nigel came running into the immediately at the sound of Declan's frantic gabbling. He was holding a postcard in his hands. "What? What is it? Where?"

Following the direction of Declan's finger, Nigel knelt down and examined the spots. "Well, it's blood, all right…but it's not very much, which leads to me believe—" Nigel broke off, and looked up at Declan, whose face was utterly closed off. "Here. Sit down. I'll call the police."

Declan sat stiffly on the edge of Rose's bed, while Nigel pulled out his mobile and dialed the police. Suddenly, Declan looked up. "What's that?"

"This?" asked Nigel, remembering the postcard he had found in the kitchen. "Oh, I found it the kitchen. It says: "Greetings from Bad Wolf Bay". I thought it was a little—Oh, hold on. Yes, hello? I'd like to report a kidnapping."

_-oO~Oo-_

Declan forgot to pay attention to reality. It had happened to him before; those moments when he didn't bother to stay in the real world, because it had nothing left to offer him. That evening, Declan couldn't have stayed in reality if he had tried.

The police came eventually, in a flurry of flashing lights, and mechanical voices. They said things he didn't really listen to, and asked questions he didn't really understand. He was, at one point, aware of someone muttering something about "shock", and gentle hands, and kind whispers. He was also semi-aware of suspicious glances thrown his way, of probing questions, and looming frowns. But none of it mattered.

Rose was gone.

And his mind had gone with her.

Finally, Nigel grabbed him by the arm. "Come on, Dec. We can go home, now." Declan followed him with a vague idea of a refuge in his mind. But when they got back to the house, at around three in the morning, Declan was struck by an immediate sense of disappointment. This was not his home. This was no refuge.

"Now, listen," said Nigel quietly, once they got inside. "I'm calling your work, and telling them you're taking the day off. And if the police have more questions…Well, I'll deal with them, too. You go on up to bed."

Declan obeyed, less out of a desire to sleep, and more because, since his mind wasn't giving him any commands, he had to follow some of some kind. When he reached his room, Declan fell on his bed fully clothed. He was only half-aware of the moment when waking nightmare became sleeping nightmare.

"This is your fault," said Mrs. Lumic. Declan glanced up at her cold face, framed by its black veil, and immediately glanced away again.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Lumic sighed heavily, as she gazed down at the casket. "I can't say that I'll miss him…But still. You must be punished. Do you know what you did?"

The bitter wind cut through Declan's thin jacket, and he shivered. "Ye-no, ma'am," he answered honestly. He would get in trouble for not knowing, but he would get in trouble for lying. You could never win with Mrs. Lumic.

"Idiot," she said sharply. "I'll tell you what you did, then. You're a poison. Yes, you heard me, a poison. I'm tough, I can stand you. But John was always weak. And just the presence of you made him weaker. He lost his job after you came. His asthma got worse after you came. And then, you ate so much…I just couldn't afford to feed both you and John. I must say I'm a little surprised. I never expected you to outlive him…but I guess you just kill everything you touch."

Somewhere, a bird squawked mournfully. Declan stared at the dead grass beneath his feet. He knew it wasn't true.

Then, Mrs. Lumic grabbed him by the shoulder, and spun him around. "You don't believe me, eh?" she leered down at him balefully. "Then what about your parents? And your brothers? How many of them were there…seven? Eight? And all dead because of you. I told you, you're a poison."

With frightening clarity, Declan remembered a funeral from only a few years ago-a funeral with a long row of black caskets. He remembered the underlying thread of guilt that almost outweighed the sorrow. And…perhaps she was right. His parents dead. His brothers dead. And now, Mr. Lumic dead. Perhaps he was a poison.

"I…I don't want to be a poison…"

Mrs. Lumic beckoned for him to follow her out of the graveyard. As she strode away, she spoke over her shoulder to him. "Punish yourself. Weaken yourself. And never, ever, grow close to anyone."

Even then, Declan thought perhaps there was something wrong with her words. But…she was all he had. He was so lonely. And he had to do something. So he began punishing himself. He soon found that the best thing to do was skip meals, because it left him weaker. That way, he couldn't poison anyone. No one else would die because of him. Every day he ate a little less, until he was barely eating at all, and he thought, finally, that all would be well.

Until the day he found himself standing over a wooden casket again, with Mrs. Lumic looming beside him.

"Wait…what, no! I've been punishing myself! I did what you told me!" Declan cried out, stepping away from the casket.

Mrs. Lumic scowled furiously at him. "No. You disobeyed. I TOLD you that you couldn't get close to anyone. I TOLD YOU. And now look what's happened."

Declan held up his hands, as if to ward off a blow. "No…I didn't…I swear…"

"Oh, really? Then who is SHE?" Mrs. Lumic flung open the casket lid. Inside lay a beautiful, blonde girl with glassy, hollow eyes.

Rose Tyler.

"No no no no no no," sobbed Declan, sinking to his knees. "I didn't mean to…Oh Rose…My Rose…"

"It's your fault," Mrs. Lumic reminded him, her face stony. "She is dead because of you."

The wind moaned through the trees, and the birds cried in the distance. The boy knelt by the coffin of the girl he loved. The girl he had killed. And Mrs. Lumic, like a Grim reaper, all in black, frowned on the world.

There was no reparation to be made for his sins.

A/N: So, I didn't update for a month, or something, and I'm really sorry. I hope you'll forgive me…anyway, I hope Declan's long, dream-sequency thing didn't confuse people too much, and that you enjoy this super fun, happy chapter! Thanks for reading, and thanks especially to classicteenagewholockian, Codename-Valkyrie, IWantColoredRain, and acciobowtie11 for reviewing! And yes, Clara will show up. Basically everyone will, except for some people from Series 8 (mostly because I haven't seen all of it yet, so). Do continue to read/follow/favorite/review, it makes me so happy! Toodle-pip!