Greetings, fellow Whovians! I recently discovered Doctor Who about four months ago, and I've absolutely fallen in love with it. Rose is, without a doubt, my favorite companion and she and the Doctor are my OTP. She is my muse. I've never written any fanfiction before, but I couldn't help myself after finishing all the episodes Netflix has so far. I simply adore the Doctor, and Rose as well, and this idea insisted upon being put into words.

I posted the prologue and chapter one at the same time, as the prologue is incredibly short. Please let me know what you think. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, and any PMs or such would be absolutely amazing as I LOVE to discuss this amazing show.

Title: Archetype

Rating: High Teen/Mature

Pairing: Doctor/Rose, Ten II/Rose (Mentioned)

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. If I did, this would have happened. No really. XD

...oooooOOOOO-OOOOOooooo...

Rose woke to a pounding headache and her body screaming in pain. Every muscle was on fire, and the blurry haze of agony made her thoughts jumbled and hard to sort. She tried to recall just where she was, and why, but the instant she attempted to concentrate her mind exploded with a hundred different trains of thought and billions upon billions of foreign scenes that she couldn't even begin to fathom. She screamed, her hands gripping the sides of her head as she tried to block the visions. What was happening to her?

Abruptly, a warm, comforting presence swept through her mind and eased the cacophony of thoughts, brushing them aside and replacing them with a gentle reassurance. Do not fear, my little wolf. I am here. I am with you.

With the aid of the strange voice, Rose was able to calm her mind enough to regain control of her body, and she sat up, finding herself in a crumpled heap at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Blinking, trying to ignore the pain of her body, the woman straightened and shook her head. Why couldn't she remember what happened?

Concentrate, young one. You will grow used to it eventually. The cryptic voice said, and Rose frowned.

"Who are you?" She asked, looking around but finding no one. Where was she, anyway? Sighing when she received no reply, the woman grabbed the banister and hauled herself to her feet, feeling disoriented and sick. She was in a house of sorts - that much was obvious - but whose house was it, and why was she there? Taking a few cautious steps, Rose found herself in a hallway and used the wall to steady herself, stumbling into a living room and approaching the mantle topped with several pictures. Those, at least, would give her answers. At least she hoped so.

With one hand gripping the mantle, Rose gently plucked one of the frames off the dark wood and brought it close to her face, squinting in the dim room. As it slowly came into focus, realization hit her, and the woman stumbled backward and fell onto the couch as the picture crashed to the floor. A flood of memories broke through the peace in her mind and rushed through her, and her body was wracked with sobs as she remembered...everything.

She remembered nothing happening for the first nineteen years of her life until she had met the Doctor. She remembered adventuring with him, traveling through the whole of time and space, and she remembered saving worlds at his side. She remembered falling in love with him, and loving him even after he had become a new man, and she remembered being separated from him at the battle of Canary Warf. Then came the pain - the memories of Bad Wolf Bay, the worst day of her life, and the long, lonely years trapped in another world and spending every waking hour trying to return to him. She remembered Davros, and the daleks, and returning to her beloved Doctor in time to warn him of the Darkness and save the universe. She remembered him leaving, and yet not, and it was here the memories became almost unbearable.

She remembered the human Doctor, and that little TARDIS coral they had been given. She remembered falling in love all over again, and marrying her human Doctor through handfasting, and traveling through time and space with him. She remembered nights of passion and nights of tender love, and she remembered a thousand different worlds and a hundred lifetimes of adventure and excitement lived in just a few years. They had grown old together, and eventually he...had died. Her Doctor was dead!

Rose wailed as even more memories assaulted her, cruel in their perfect clarity. She remembered his funeral - how every member of the late Pete's Torchwood had attended and how the massive cathedral had been packed with mourners for the brilliant Doctor. She remembered returning to their home, old and alone and grieving, and waving off the assistance her brother Tony had offered.

And then, at the very last, she remembered tonight. She had...fallen, and her frail body was broken. She remembered closing her eyes and being at peace despite the pain, ready to follow the Doctor into oblivion, so how...

You know how, my Bad Wolf.

With a gasp, the woman bolted from the couch and practically fell into the bathroom, gripping the sides of the mirror as she stared at a stranger. Her face, though retaining a similar basic bone structure, was young again - around 28, if she was to place herself, and different enough to make her unrecognizable. Her eyes were oddly light, a grey that neared silver, and Rose began laughing hysterically as she got a good look at her long, gorgeously wavy hair.

Of course she would be ginger.

Her body was that of a runner - long and lean with limber, strong legs. Yet for the moment, those legs were weak and trembling, and the woman nearly collapsed as the enormity of her discovery suddenly hit her hard. She had regenerated! A frantic sort of energy coursed through her, and Rose placed her hands against her chest to feel a double heartbeat pulsing even and strong. She felt strangely powerful, and as her sanity slowly returned, she realized just how quickly her mind now moved. She saw everything, and her brain rapidly committed it to memory and catalogued it away within seconds. Those billions upon billions of visions returned, and this time, Rose recognized the sensation. She had felt the same thing when she was the Bad Wolf. She was seeing everything that was, everything that is, and everything that ever could be. She was seeing timelines. Blanching, the woman suddenly felt her stomach heave as the ground beneath abruptly began to spin, and she understood just what that Northern voice had meant when it said he could feel the turn of the earth under him. There was only one explanation.

She was a Time Lord.

Time Lady, young one. The voice returned now, and Rose pressed her hand over her mouth as she realized who it must be.

"You're the TARDIS." She breathed.

I must admit I've longed for the day I could speak with you, young one. She replied, her voice sad but her affection for Rose clear. After a moment, she added, I sang him to sleep as he passed from this world, though only your Doctor could hear. I grieve with you, my wolf. The TARDIS's voice was soft and gentle, and Rose suddenly felt the need to be with her. She was, after all, the only being in this universe that could understand just how deep her sorrow ran.

The newly-regenerated Time Lady bolted through the halls and out her back door, slowing as she neared the resting place of their TARDIS. Her husband had built a rather impressive domed building in their sizable back yard, complete with a glass ceiling so his beloved time machine could always see the stars above her. The building itself was filled with a plethora of alien tech that he enjoyed tinkering with when they weren't traveling or working with Torchwood, and a line of sonic tools he had constructed himself were packed neatly away. With trembling hands, Rose pulled her necklace off and used one of the two keys to unlock the building, slowly stepping inside. Traces of her Doctor were everywhere, and the woman felt her tears begin anew.

Fate had dealt her a truly spiteful hand. Now that she was finally able to give her Doctor the forever she had promised...he was mortal, and dead. The irony was too cruel.

Swallowing her tears, Rose approached the TARDIS, and smiled sadly as she pressed her hand to the wooden door. "Oh, love, what do we do now?" She whispered, and the time machine gave a soft little hum in her mind.

We do as he would, young one. We leave this behind and begin anew. We travel. We run.

And Rose did just that.