Rating: All Ages
Word Count: 1979
Author's Summary: Darkness falls around Barbara, dawn rises, rain caresses the turf, and she thinks of the man who had seen all the wonders of the cosmos and then whispered in her ear that she, a drab middle-aged history teacher, was the most brilliant star in the sky.
Characters/Pairings: Barbara Wright/Ian Chesterton
Warnings: Character Death
Recced because: This is one of the most beautifully poetic stories I've read in this fandom. It also manages to be both incredibly sad and incredibly uplifting at the same time. Not an easy feat. It's a character study of Barbara, and what became of her and Ian after leaving the Doctor.
The day birds go to rest and the night birds begin their subdued, drawn-out calls. The breeze is faint. A kissing breeze, ruffling leaves and feathers with promises of rain.
Barbara does not leave flowers on his grave. She is a strong person, or pretends to be, and it has been years since she knelt in this place. She has moved on, mostly, and does not cry, but it is not rain that falls to water the grass.
She is happy though, paradoxically. She is happy, and sad, and confused, and very, very unsure.
She knows that what is going to happen has already happened somewhere, and what has been is still going on somewhen else. She knows that whatever will be, will be. She does not pretend to understand time or fate, especially when she knows that, though things are fixed, they are also in flux.
Perhaps, this is not the ending she imagined, but she would not change it — not one line — and, besides, she knows that every ending is only a transition. A star might die. It might explode, or implode, or burn away to a husk, but the universe deplores a vacuum and something new will always be waiting, better or worse, to take that star's place.