"Are you sure we've got the right spot?" asked a good-looking brown-haired, green-eyed young man who looked to be about twenty-five, turning toward the other man with him.

The tall, imposing slightly older figure beside him, gangly limbs and dark-hair rolled his eyes. "Since when am I ever wrong?" he asked, sarcastically.

"All the time," the other man replied, sticking his hands in his pockets and turning around to walk backwards, grinning broadly.

"Hardly my fault," the older one grumbled, scowling slightly. "She's got a mind of her own."

"So does mine, but at least she gets me places on time," he replied, laughing.

"You sweet-talk her too much," retorted the hazel-eyed man. "If you spent half the time actually working on the console as you did charming her, you wouldn't have to call me for help all the time."

"It's not my fault you got all the technical genes this go'round," whined the brown-haired boy, bouncing up on his toes.

The taller man opened his mouth to reply but it seemed the young blonde with them had had enough. "Ok, ok. That's enough, boys. Yes, this is the right planet, yes this is the right time. Good job, Will," she said, smiling kindly at the hazel-eyed man. "Now. Can we go find Mum's present and hurry back? She's going to figure out something's up," the girl said,

"Oh, please. She knew something was up before we left. Never can surprise that woman," the younger man responded, rolling his eyes at the girl and turning back to walk forwards again.

"Oi! Leave her be. She's right, let's get a move on," the older man defended. "Lead the way, Sarah. Your show," he said, glowering at the brown-haired one.

The girl lit up and charged off, leaving the two men to follow closely behind her.

-

The Doctor stepped from his TARDIS out into the bright, warm sunlight, walking toward the bright, sun-filled park that was his destination. Everything was just as he remembered it, not that he had been expecting any different, but being here...maybe it was too much. Maybe he should just go back. This was a silly idea.

He turned to head back toward the TARDIS when he felt a funny twinge inside his head. That was odd. He tried to mentally trace the source of his sudden discomfort but came up with nothing. Frowning, he pulled out his screwdriver to scan the area. He sighed. Atypical signature, three lifeforms of undetermined origin and intent walking the planet. Undetermined origin? Even for a Time Lord with all the knowledge of the universe at his disposal?

He'd better check it out.

A bollocks "vacation" this was going to be.

He'd come here to sulk and mourn not to investigate a grand universal mystery. Couldn't the universe ever just shove off and leave him alone with his sorrow, even just this once?

It seemed the answer was no. Something...disasters, crises, companions...sometimes all three at once were always popping up to keep him from his well-deserved grief. Sometimes for the better and sometimes...well. He didn't need to think about that.

Of course it was one of those 'for the better's' that had him here on this bright, happy planet full of memories and happier times, attempting to wallow at the moment.

He'd been lost, adrift, alone and angry in the wake of the Time War, firmly ensconced in his guilt and horror and the universe poked its nose in his grief and had intervened.

The universe had given him Rose.

She had taught him how to laugh and live and, well, fine. How to love. Might as well admit it to himself since he'd never admitted it to her. She'd given him a reason to live, a reason to fight, and a reason to rekindle the fire in his hearts.

And then she had been taken from him and, in saying goodbye, after hurried words and not enough time...never enough time, he hadn't been allowed his grief then. The universe and Donna had seen to that. Then Martha and the Judoon. Then the Master...then, then, then.

He'd never been allowed his time. So instead he wore his blue suit of mourning and slowly bled out without her. Maybe if the universe had given him time to process, time to let go, time for closure, he could have...

Feh. Who was he kidding. He would never forget her. Her name would be the one on his lips with the dying breath of his final body.

And then, when he'd given up all hope, she had done the impossible and returned to him, older, wiser and perhaps a bit sadder but beautiful and ihis/i. The universe intervened! Silly Time Lord. He'd never had time to mourn because she had been coming back all along!

And now...he was going to tell her. Time to end that sentence.

Right after they saved the world.

And then he lost her again...this time by his own hand. He left her with the lucky half of him that could give her what he never could. He'd watched in a pained silence of his own creation as his twin said the words he'd always wanted to say and then she'd kissed him. That him. The wrong him. And he felt the gaping wound in his hearts, the one that had slowly begun to heal with her hand holding his, reopen and he'd left...left them to their life together. Left them to their love. Left them to live the life he wanted. Left ihim/i to give her the life she deserved.

And in the process, left him to his grief.

And the universe had been keeping him busy ever since. He still reached for her hand, still listened for her laughter, still craved her touch, even so many years and another body later. He wondered what she would think of his green eyes, of his ungraceful gait, of his floppy hair.

She always had liked that hair.

Did the other him go grey? Salt and pepper? Bald? He shivered. Horrible thought, there. How many slaps had he garnered in the span of a human life spent near Jackie Tyler, shagging her only daughter?

Oh.

Did they do that? Well, surely...both human and if that kiss on the beach had been any indication...

He tried to quash the intense jealousy that rose up in him.

Did they get married? He tugged at his left ring finger, imagining his former manly, hairy hand and what it would have looked like with a human wedding ring on it. He tried to keep away the wish that it had been his manly, hairy hand instead.

Did they have children? Grandchildren? Did Jackie spoil them? Did they look like him, that him?

Did they manage to grow their own TARDIS and see the parallel stars before their short human lives ran out?

He sighed. He'd gone a bit spare after that...without Rose, without Donna, without, without, without. Companions had come and gone, none staying too long...the pull of time and space apparently not worth the crazy alien that came with it. He tried to care.

He didn't. He'd had it all...the girl, the best friend and, for a brief moment, the brother and it had all been torn from him.

And the damn universe wouldn't give him a break to mourn it.

He'd been running around, saving the universe just as they had, just as she'd have wanted him to do...although, of late, it had seemed like the universe hadn't quite needed as much saving.

He'd had more than a few moments in the past several decades when he'd followed a knotted timeline, work of the Time Lords, his sole duty now...only to discover that it had righted itself. Perhaps the universe was learning to function on its own.

Or perhaps it was trying to give him his requested mourning time. That's what he'd wanted, right? To mourn her, to forget her?

Well...he'd just ignore it. A mystery was always better, right?

And maybe, just maybe...he could get through this one without thinking of her.

Too much.

Of course, that's why he'd come here in the first place. To think of her. Why else would he have come back to sunny Barcelona less than 24 hours after they'd been here the first time? He'd just wanted to come here and remember...to sit on the bench where he'd sat the last time so, so long ago and so, so in love with her and watched her joyfully romp with a play pen full of psychic, noseless puppies. To think of the way she had shyly gazed up at him, wide hazel eyes beaming, all tentative flirts and hesitant touches as they tried to figure each other out once again. To remember their playful argument over dogs on the TARDIS as she'd dumped a particularly wriggly white and brown furball with peanut-butter eyebrows and huge gooey brown eyes in his lap and begged him to let her keep it.

How he'd managed to resist that pouting pink lip and pleading hazel eyes he'd never know. It was a good thing he'd never managed to bring her here when he'd been all leather and ears, he thought. That him had never been able to refuse her anything. He'd most certainly have a dog now.

He sighed, pushing away those memories of a happier times and a happier him away and, frowning, checked his screwdriver again. The signal was leading him into the park after all and toward the puppies to boot.

In fact, there they were...the backs of them anyway.

His frowned deepened.

Sitting on ihis/i bench.

More than a little annoyed, he huffily ran the green light over them from his distance away. Still no more information. All three were shielded very heavily and he couldn't pick up any traces from them. Even their biological signals were being blocked somehow. Whoever had designed their shields had done an incredible job, he thought begrudgingly.

He edged closer to them and, suddenly, he was very certain that at least one of his hearts stopped beating.

Sitting in the playpen, with the fluffy white and brown puppy, Rose's puppy, was Rose Tyler.

What?

His mind spun and he staggered back to lean against a tree. No, no, no. How could Rose be here? Had he come too early? He was sure he'd gotten the date right...had checked and rechecked, making sure he wouldn't have to suffer the pain of running into himself (because that was always irritating).

And making sure he wouldn't have to suffer the pain of seeing Rose.

Suddenly the girl's eyes shot up to meet his. He watched as emotions flitted across her expressive face, so like Rose's, and he studied her closely, unable to break her steadfast gaze. Her hair was blonde and, like Rose, it seemed to be dyed that way. Her face was a bit more angular than Rose's but other than that she was the spitting image of one Rose Tyler. Except for her eyes. Oh, her eyes. They were bright blue instead of hazel. In fact, they almost reminded him of...

Oh.

Oh no.

He watched as the girl straightened and spoke to the two men sitting on the bench in front of her, glancing up at him nervously. From his position partly hiding behind the tree, he couldn't see either of their faces and, if he was honest with himself, he was a bit afraid of what he might see there. He watched as both men, tall and lanky, disappeared off into the crowd toward the bustling city center. The taller of the two squeezed the girl's shoulder as he left.

Alone now, she raised her eyes back to his and gently beckoned for him to come closer.