Ageless, Timeless

Part One

Rose looked up starry-eyed at her current boyfriend and probably soon-to-be husband, who was strolling out of the pub hand-in-hand with her looking for all the world like he was Emperor of the Universe, with his handsome head thrown back and a superior grin on his face. She couldn't help but marvel at her own luck. Honestly, she was known in the Estates as the chav daughter of slaphappy Jackie Tyler and the long-deceased failure Pete Tyler, and yet here she was, holding hands with him. He was brilliant, he was fit, he was older, and the whole of the Powell Estates that had ever laid eyes on him wanted him. But Jimmy had seduced her when she was seventeen with promises of seeing the wonders of the world, escaping the constricting clutches of the Powell Estates, and so here she was, six years later.

He noticed her watching him and looked at her pointedly before she even had time to flush. "You were bloody awful tonight."

Rose's smile faded off her face and she hung her head. "I was?"

He scowled. "Completely."

Rose's knock-off trainers suddenly became very interesting. This was the third time Jimmy had let her sing in one of his band's gigs, which had taken place an hour earlier in the pub they'd just exited. Granted, she was only a background singer, but she'd thought tonight had been her best performance and that Jimmy would have been proud of her. She should have known, though. Nothing she did was good enough.

"You ought to do better next time," he sniffed, a moment in their silence.

Her head snapped up in delight and she saw him smirking. "Really? I can have another go?" Jimmy nodded and she squealed, tossing her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you!"

"Just don't screw up this time," he said, untangling himself from her. "Stay here, babe. Gonna collect our cut from the pub's owner."

He left her and circled around the building to the pub's back alley entrance. Rose beamed in the afternoon summer air and leaned against the pub's wall, feeling bubbly at his rare attempt to cheer her up. Usually he didn't give a flying fuck how she felt unless it was inconvenient to him. Her mood vanished when she heard a snide, older voice say from beside her, "How sad."

Rose turned her head, one eyebrow quirked at the older-looking man standing on the opposite side of the pub's steps, looking down at her over his nose with his thin lips pressed together in a disapproving line. She felt rather like she was being chastised by a principal, especially since he was wearing a posh black overcoat, a pair of plaid beige trousers and black loafers. "Sorry, what?"

"Your relationship to that pitiful excuse of a human," the man sniffed. "It is rather sad."

Bristling, Rose put her hands on her hips a la Jackie Tyler. "'Scuse me? Who the hell are you?"

"That is none of your concern, child," he said, tugging on his jacket lapels and looking like he found himself immeasurably important. "More importantly, you ought to smarten up and... oh, what is it you young folk say?... ah yes, dump him. Walk away. Kick his arse to the curb. Something along those lines." Rose's look of utter fury didn't deter the man from his musings. "Don't know what you see in him, really. He's not even that handsome."

"Well, s'not like you're anything fantastic," Rose retorted, looking over his receding white hair, pleased when he looked affronted. "What're you, fifty?"

"My age is none of your business, young lady," he said pointedly.

"Neither is my relationship, so butt out, you nosy old git," Rose snapped, crossing her arms and sticking her nose in the air.

"You'd be wise to heed me," the man said haughtily, tugging on his jacket again. She wondered if it was a habit. "Nothing good can come from a young sod who treats a lady such. Besides," he added, voice dropping to a mumble and eyes now locked on a discarded chip box lying on the sidewalk, "I saw your performance. You have a lovely singing voice."

Rose froze, looking him over with a narrowed gaze even as he turned pink and avoided her eye entirely. She'd been singing a Flyleaf song, and he didn't exactly seem like the type to listen to Christian hard rock. Her irritation only half-gone, she said, "Thanks. I think."

"Oi, babe," Jimmy called to her, his guitar case slung on his back and a wad of cash in his hand. "Let's go; I'm bloody starving."

"Is he expecting you to cook him dinner?" the man said airily, smirking at her with a smug sense of satisfaction.

Rose flushed, as his comment had been more than spot on, shot him a glare and stomped off towards Jimmy, who seemed almost irritated that she was holding his hand tighter than normal. "S'matter with you, Rose?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, knowing any subject about them breaking up was a touchy one with him. Jackie had brought it up one too many times for his liking (and hers). She spared a glance behind her, looking to where the older man had been standing, but he was gone.

Rose at first dismissed the man's words as nothing but an observation from a rude, stuffy old curmudgeon, but she found herself taking them to heart after a week of her usual treatment. She lived with Jimmy in a not-so-posh flat in downtown London, which wasn't as far as the Estates as she wanted to be but still at least a half hour's ride on the Tube for her mother in case she wanted to come nag. The rent was heavily dependent on Rose, as Jimmy didn't have a day job other than being a musician, so Rose would divide her time between working her own job at a Henrik's department store, taking care of Jimmy and singing if he ever managed to get them a gig. It wasn't until the seventh day — when Rose had burnt the edges of his dinner and he'd exploded, breaking two of her CDs when he flung his beer bottle at her shelf, and she'd stormed into her room in a fit of tears when he called her a useless chav — that the man's old face burst clear into her mind as she laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling.

She found herself thinking maybe he was right. As far as the stick up his arse probably was, he was most likely completely right. Rose snorted to herself— her mother had said basically the same thing, although with more begging and usage of the word 'sweetheart', even though Jackie had been utterly thrilled the first time Rose had told her she had an interest in Jimmy. It was only when Rose brought him round for dinner (and he made a complete fool out of himself by making his usual obnoxious remarks) and Rose had come home one night with a bruise on her forehead (his favourite football team had lost) that Jackie suddenly stopped liking him. Rose hadn't listened to a word of what her mother said but was taking into consideration the musings of an old codger, and she snorted to herself again. Now that the anger was out of her system, she told herself she was just being silly. Jimmy was an excellent musician and as soon as his career kicked off, she'd be on the road with him, far away from the Estates. And they'd be happy.

She heard his snore from behind the bedroom door, knowing Jimmy had conked out on the couch to sleep off his four beers and that it was safe to come out. Rose quietly tiptoed out into the living area, tossing a blanket over Jimmy and taking the remote out of his hands to flick off the football game. She glanced over at the empty plate left in the sink and scowled at it. He obviously didn't have that much of a problem with the burnt parts, otherwise he wouldn't have eaten it. She tossed down her dinner and headed back to their bedroom to sleep.

Her alarm went off at seven thirty, jolting her out of her bizarre dream in which the old man from the pub had seen her with Jimmy again and had whacked her over the head with a measuring stick for not heeding his words. A groan sounded from beside her, and in her groggy state she realised Jimmy had slipped into bed with her sometime in the night and was clamped to her back.

"Turn 'toff," he mumbled, and Rose obediently sat up and pounded the device into submission. She snuggled into him, content to be the small spoon to his big spoon for a few minutes longer, but Jimmy got another idea and slipped his hand into her knickers.

"No time, babe," Rose murmured, though she keened when his thumb pressed down on her clit. "Gotta go."

He pouted at her, lip sticking out in a way that always got to her. "You're gonna make me take care of this myself?" he muttered, pressing his erection into her bum.

She sighed, wishing she had time for a quickie and obediently disappeared under the covers to take his morning hard on in her mouth, sucking him off until he came loudly. Once he was finished and sated, she slipped out of bed and padded into the en suite to start her day, sighing when she heard him snore again. She didn't particularly like giving him head, but Jimmy loved it and she loved him. Plus, he wasn't going to leave her alone unless she did it. Rose brushed her teeth quickly to get rid of the taste of him and started on her makeup.

Rose's day consisted mainly of folding the jumpers discarded by the customers (honestly, if it didn't fit, would it kill them to put it back properly?) and ignoring half of her co-workers' glares of jealousy that they weren't the ones on Jimmy Stone's arm, so it felt like an eternity between the time Rose arrived and the time the clock rang for lunch. Normally on her lunch breaks Rose would either go out for lunch with her oldest mate, Mickey, or stay in the back room reading Charles Dickens. She never used to be a big reader, but one particular night Jimmy had hogged the telly with his friends to watch the game and Rose had had nothing better to do but to peruse his bookshelf (not that that had been anything extensive). She ended up choosing, among the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and a couple of Marvel comics, an ancient-looking and doodled-on copy of Oliver Twist and she'd found herself hooked. Now she read classic literature whenever she could steal a moment, particularly Charles Dickens and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Today was an exception, however as the chief electrician, Wilson, visited to fix the lightbulbs in the basement. The man was sweet, energetic and stereotypically gay, and had no quarrels whatsoever of sitting down with her at lunch break and chatting about his newest beau.

"... he says 'I'll pay you back later', and then I just kicked 'im to the curb, I did, 'cos y'know there ain't gonna be any good comin' from them excuses," Wilson chatted, sharing a box of chips with her in the break room. "Me money's probably long gone now."

"'M sorry, Wil," Rose said, patting him on the knee.

Wilson waved a hand absently, licking salt off his fingers. "Never mind that." He looked at her pointedly. "How's that wanker of yours treatin' you?"

"Fine, Wilson," Rose sighed, wondering what was up with everyone looking down their noses on her relationship with Jimmy.

"He's not hit you?"

"He only did that once."

"Twice," Wilson reminded her. "An' both times it was in the face, Rose."

Rose opened her mouth, not even sure how she was going to justify it since it sounded pretty pathetic to her own ears (and she'd just remembered he'd hit her three times, actually) until the alarm on her mobile went off, signalling the end of her lunch break. She bid Wilson goodbye with an eccentric hug and an invitation to come around for tea later and dragged herself back to her post. It was ten minutes into the rest of her shift before she spotted a certain someone tottering around the dress section. Rose's jaw dropped— it was the old sod from outside the pub! Before Rose could go over and give him a piece of her mind for showing up at her job, one of her fellow employees, Stephanie, flounced over to him and gave him her best 'welcome' smile. Stephanie returned not even five seconds later, looking all but terrified; Rose snickered, and then reminded herself not to because he was at her job.

As everyone else looked too frightened to go near him, Rose straightened herself up and stormed over to him. He didn't look up as he examined a peach-coloured prom dress but instead sighed irritably as he sensed her presence. "As I've already said, I do not need any help searching, thank you."

She ignored him and crossed her arms. "Are you stalking me?"

He glanced up at her uninterestedly only to do a rather comical double take when he recognised her. "What are you doing here, child?"

"I work here," Rose scowled, pointing to her name tag. "What's your excuse?"

He straightened up and glared down at her. "I am searching for something, young lady, and I will thank you to stop sending those vultures to swoop over me and ask if I need help."

She half-smirked at his quip about her co-workers. "What are you lookin' for?"

The barest trace of pink tinted his wrinkled cheeks and he said swiftly, "That need not concern you. It is clear this establishment doesn't hold what I am seeking."

She suddenly felt afraid, and took a step back. "You are stalking me!"

"I most certainly am not!" he bristled; now his whole face was the same colour as the magenta gown to his right.

"Then what are you lookin' for?" Rose challenged, hands on her hips again (her mum would be proud).

He looked immeasurably uncomfortable. "I am searching for a gown to give to my granddaughter, if you absolutely must know."

Rose relaxed now that she knew he wasn't a creepy old sod and her glare automatically softened into her signature tongue-touched smile, watching his entire stiff posture slump at once and his mouth drop open. "Granddaughter, yeah? What's she look like?"

The man seemed to jerk himself out of whatever reverie of astonishment he'd fallen into, trying not to look too disgruntled. "Her name is Susan. She's... erm... hold on a moment..." He promptly stuck his hand in his pockets, rummaging around and sinking his arm in to his elbow. Rose looked at him confusedly, wondering if his pockets were bigger on the inside or something, before he straightened up again with a snap and briskly handed her a photo.

Rose smiled at it. His granddaughter was a lovely teenager with a pixie-like appearance, fair skin and a sweet-looking face. "She's really beautiful."

She handed him back the photograph, and it was her turn to be shocked as his face was graced with a gentle smile that took decades off his face. "Yes, she is."

He seemed startled by his own reaction, and promptly cleared his throat and resumed his earlier cross posture. Rose chuckled at it and turned to walk through the aisle of dresses. "What're you gettin' her a dress for?"

He looked slightly proud. "Her school is hosting a dance for all the near-graduates in a couple of months."

Rose smiled back at him, and he faltered again, but this time she didn't notice. "Prom, is it?"

"Yes, I believe that's the word Susan used," he said, nodding fervently.

Rose examined a green brocade and tried to picture it on his granddaughter. "Bet it's lovely."

His frown deepened, as did the crease in his forehead and between his eyebrows. "Didn't you ever have a prom when you were in school?"

Unknowingly cursing Jimmy in the back of her mind, she shook her head. "Nope."

"Whyever not?"

Her hands faltered on the green brocade and she smiled at him, too disarmingly to be real. "Just didn't." She held up the dress and said before he could inquire, "Can you see Susan wearing this?"

He studied it intently, looking at it as though he were an art dealer searching for forgeries, before sighing heavily. "I haven't a clue. Rassilon, I'm no good at this!"

She wondered about the odd exclamation (what the sodden hell did Rassilon mean?) but found his frustration to make his granddaughter happy unbelievably adorable, and she gifted him with another tongue-in-teeth grin. "'M not goin' anywhere."

He blinked at her confusedly, looking almost dazed. "No?"

She shook her head and grinned, "I work here." His face went red went he remembered that, until Rose added, "Also, you scared off the rest of the staff away, and now nobody'll go near you but me." They both shared a chuckle over his obvious rudeness, and Rose put down the green brocade. "Well, let's think of it this way. What's her favourite colour?"

He thought for a moment before shrugging. "As far as I know, she doesn't have one."

Rose gave him a look that made him feel like he just dribbled on his shirt. "Every girl has a favourite colour. How about this: what's her eye colour?"

His own eyes widened, now twinkling with something akin to excitement. "They change sometimes, between brown and olive green."

"So, like yours then?"

He started, widening his presently khaki eyes at her even more, cheeks pink again. "How do you know that?"

"I'm lookin' at 'em right now," Rose pointed out, and he flushed with remembrance again. She turned over to the dresses. "In my opinion, something like this would be good." Rose slipped a fern-coloured silk gown off the rack and approached him without warning, holding it close to his eyes, which were still wide as saucers. "It'll make the colour of her eyes stand out like it does for you."

He full-on beamed at her, making her falter a little. "Excellent! Susan will be delighted!" The man seized her hand, twining his fingers with hers and shaking it vigorously, making Rose giggle. "Thank you, child!"

"You're welcome," Rose laughed, squeezing his hand back. "I'll bag it for you, yeah?"

He nodded, still grinning like a madman, and Rose slipped the hanger out of the dress and led him over to the counter. The two of them glanced at each other and shared another laugh when the group of girls flocked away at their approach, and Rose circled the counter as he dug around in his pockets. When Rose folded the dress and slipped it into a bag, she watched him pull out something that looked like a thin grey bar and held it out to her.

She looked down at it and quirked an eyebrow. "Um, what's that?"

He started, and hastily shoved the stick thing back into his pocket. "Nothing." She frowned but didn't inquire, but her confusion deepened when he pulled out a wad of bills and handed them to her. She flicked through them and gave him another look. "These are all blank."

His jaw dropped to the floor. "Wh-what?"

"Yeah, look, they're—" she started to say, holding out the bills to him just as the numbers seemed to twine into view. Rose paused. "Oh. Never mind, must have been a trick of the light or something."

Not noticing that he was still gaping at her like a fish, she sorted out the bills and handed the excess ones back to him along with the bag. She granted him a smile, even though he was now narrowing his eyes at her as though he thought she were hiding something. Then, with the same tone of voice he'd had when they met, he said, "It was because of him, was it not?"

Rose's smile vanished. "What?"

"The reason you didn't have a prom," he said, drawing himself up again. "It was because of that oaf, right?"

Irritation sparked inside her again, and she crossed her arms and gave him a glare. "You're bloody nosy."

"But I'm correct," he said firmly. "Yes?"

"It's none of your bloomin' business, you rude git!" Rose said angrily, feeling a sudden urge to swat him upside the head.

He tugged on his jacket again (definitely a habit) and scowled down at her. "Fine."

"Good!" she shot at him, as he spun on his heels and stormed out of the store. Ignoring the looks of amusement and confusion from her co-workers, Rose huffily shoved his bills into the register. Muttering about nosy gits, she tried to shove the temperamental old man out of her mind and flocked off to help another customer.

Two days later, Jimmy managed to book them another gig at the pub. Rose was relieved— she was looking forward to singing, as it liberated her, and quite frankly she needed to feel liberated between the ever-constant deprecating from Jimmy and the continuous thoughts of the rude man. Despite everything she just couldn't stop thinking about him in all his rudeness. Thinking about him usually made her angry, but when she looked beyond his unbelievable urge to stick his nose where it didn't belong, everything about him suggested he was a mysterious man who loved his granddaughter a lot and didn't smile often, but when he did it made all the difference. He was also unbelievably observant, and she cursed him for guessing that it was Jimmy's fault she didn't get a prom like most girls did.

As she strolled down the lamp-lit London street towards the pub, hand in hand with Jimmy again and dressed to the nines for her performance in her most expensive outfit, she stayed silent and thought hard about her life choices. If it hadn't been for the man beside her, she could have gotten her A-levels, had a prom, finished school, gotten a better job and saved up to travel further than Hounslow. Maybe met a bloke who wouldn't take a swing at her whenever he got drunk and actually provided for them.

She and Jimmy went into the back rooms to prepare for their performance, Jimmy sitting down with the rest of the band and tuning his guitar and Rose practising her lines. She was slightly nervous underneath her excitement; she loved to sing, but what if Jimmy found her performance awful again and never let her sing again?

They strolled out on stage and Rose announced the song name, heart beating in her throat as Jimmy started up with his guitar. Throughout the song Rose kept stealing glances to see Jimmy's reaction to her singing, but his face was impassive and firm as he concentrated on his playing. A little disappointed, Rose turned back to the crowd—

— and looked straight into the piercing olive gaze of a teenage girl she'd only ever seen in a photograph.

Rose ripped her gaze away from Susan's and forced herself not to falter. What on Earth was the grumpy old man's granddaughter doing at one of her performances? Maybe he really was stalking her and this time he took Susan along with him.

When the song finished, the crowd clapped a little too loudly to be simple politeness, and Rose hastened off the stage, while Jimmy went round back to collect their pay, to scan the audience for the white-haired old sod with a scowl, but didn't spot him. Instead, Susan jumped up from her seat and hurried over to her looking like Rose would scold her for coming.

"Hello, Miss," Susan said, in a lilting, soft voice that suited her pixie features perfectly. "My name is Susan Foreman."

"I know," Rose said, before realising that may have sounded rude. "I mean, I've met your grandfather; he's shown me a photo of you."

Susan's pouty lips stretched into a smile and her nose wrinkled, and Rose couldn't help but find her completely adorable. Her eyes twinkled the same way her grandfather's did. "That's rather why I'm here, actually. I wanted to apologise for my grandfather's behaviour. From what he's told me of your conversations, he most likely came across as insensitive."

Rose blinked at the teenage girl standing before her and almost collapsed in a fit of giggles. Here she was, apologising for her grandfather's actions as though their roles were reversed. Giving Susan a tongue-touched grin, Rose said, "Susan, your grandfather is a rude git." She watched shock blossom over Susan's face before adding, "But... he has his heart set in the right place."

Susan smiled gently, and Rose saw her grandfather in that smile. "He does."

"And you don't need to apologise," Rose added, mentally thinking, He does, actually. "It's alright."

Susan beamed, cheeks round and eyes crinkled. "Excellent!" A giggle escaped her at the term (God, she was so like her grandfather). "I saw your performances. You have a beautiful voice."

Rose blushed a bit and smiled. "Thank you."

The sweet moment was lost the moment Jimmy's voice roared out, "ROSE?"

"I have to go," Rose mumbled, trying not to look too ashamed of herself. "It was lovely to meet you Susan. You may want to go before you get caught in here, since teens aren't allowed. Have fun at your prom," Rose added, another tongue-in-teeth smile forming when Susan looked slightly confused. Obviously the dress was going to be a surprise.

Susan's confusion melted into another soft smile. "Thank you, Miss...?"

"Rose Tyler," she said.

Susan looked momentarily taken aback, but Rose didn't have time to contemplate it since Jimmy had just shouted her name again. Giving the little brunette an apologetic smile, Rose turned away and hastened after the source of the yelling. She found Jimmy in the back room, looking livid and about ready to hit her again.

"Where the fuck were you?"

"Talkin' to someone," Rose shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

He looked like he barely heard her. "I'm gonna stay here an' have a drink with my mates. Go home and make dinner, yeah?"

Rose nodded obediently, letting him peck her on the lips before exiting the pub on her own. She took the Tube home instead of walking, eager to get a couple of hours to herself, and spent a little bit of her solitude listening to music (her own preference, instead of what Jimmy liked) whilst making dinner. She put his portion in the fridge and ate her own, read Great Expectations on the chesterfield and had a good cry into her throw pillow when Miss Havisham died. It wasn't until well into the night, and Rose had fallen asleep with the book on her stomach, that Jimmy returned with a loud crashing noise that startled Rose out of her sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she opened them to see Jimmy, ruffled-looking with a giggling blonde on his arm.

Rose sat up abruptly, hurt and the beginnings of a tantrum flooding her insides at the sight of another woman — another blonde woman — draped over her boyfriend. Jimmy, clearly completely wasted, blinked at her lazily as though wondering why she was there. A flicker of alarm flashed over his face before he turned to the other blonde woman. "Out."

She pouted. "But Jimmy—"

"You heard me," he snapped, giving her his signature do-it-or-get-thumped glare.

Sticking her fake nose in the air and huffing, the other woman left. Rose sat still as a statue, furious eyes locked on Jimmy, who was now stumbling over to the fridge like nothing had happened. But it had happened. And it was about damn time Rose Marion Tyler stood up to Jimmy Stone.

Before she could go into the rant she was formulating in her head, he glanced over to her through half-opened eyes and sneered, "That Dickens shit again? Y'know, readin' that stuff ain't gonna make you clever."

"Gonna explain yourself?" Rose snarled, ignoring his hurtful jibe.

"Don't need to," he said swiftly, cracking opening a can of Coke and sipping from it, needing a couple of tries to get it to his mouth.

"You think?" she fumed, tossing the book on the floor and standing forcefully. "My bloke just flounced in with some bloomin' bimbo and it don't need explain, does it?"

"Maybe I'm just bloody tired of lookin' at your ugly body," he shot at her, clumsily putting down his Coke and glaring daggers at her.

His comment hurt, but not enough to quench her fire. "Is this somethin' you do often then? Bring home bitches to suck your cock 'cos you ain't got the balls to stay monogamous—"

His fist flew out of nowhere connected with the side of her face; her head snapped back and she tripped over the leg of the coffee table, landing on the floor with a loud bang. Lying on the ground, cheek throbbing, she felt Jimmy stumble past her and enter their bedroom, heard him slam the door. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Rose curled up into a ball and cried silently into the rug.

Susan Foreman watched as the strange blonde woman flashed her an apologetic smile and hurried off after the obnoxious-sounding male voice. Shock was flooding her system.

Rose. She said her name was Rose.

Susan hastened out of the pub before anyone spotted her, since to humans she appeared to be under age. She found the Doctor in a bookstore, poring over the bookshelves. He jumped when she called his name before positively beaming at her. "Susan! Look what I've found!" The Doctor held up a weathered, antique-looking, leather-bound first edition copy of David Copperfield. "It's in awful condition — silly apes have no idea how to treat their valuables — but I could repair it and bring it back to mint condition! Perhaps I'll even go back and ask Mr. Dickens to sign it for me! Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful, to meet Charles Dickens?"

Susan giggled. "Yes, Grandfather, we'll go back and meet Mr. Dickens if you wish." Her grandfather made a happy noise in the back of his throat and turned back eagerly to the collection of books on the shelf before him. "Er, Grandfather?"

"Yes, my dear Susan?"

"I've just been to see that woman you met at the pub."

The Doctor's entire face seemed to turn magenta, and upon swallowing he said in a forcibly disinterested tone, "Oh?"

Susan nodded. "Yes, she was singing at the pub again."

The Doctor looked angry. "Now, Susan, you'd better not have gone inside. I know perfectly well you're more than old enough to go in, but they don't, and I'd rather you not have a criminal record during our time here."

"Grandfather, she said her name was Rose Tyler," Susan said, ignoring him.

He froze for a brief moment before turning his head to properly look at Susan, who was bearing a secret smile. He huffed. "Rose Tyler," he said, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. "And?"

"Rose, Grandfather," Susan said, smiling growing. "Rose."

The Doctor waved his free hand idly. "It is simple coincidence."

"But you said yourself, she wasn't fooled by psychic paper at first," Susan said insistently, gripping her grandfather's arm.

"There is nothing special about the girl," he said firmly. "If she were clever enough not to be fooled by psychic paper, she would know enough to get rid of the pathetic excuse of a man she calls her boyfriend," he added, spitting out the word like it was something disgusting.

"If you say so, Grandfather," Susan sighed, crossing her arms and shaking her head sadly at his stubbornness.

He seemed to take that as an acceptance and smiled softly, drawing his granddaughter into a hug. She hummed and hugged him back tightly, David Copperfield squished between them. Smoothing back her hair with one hand, the Doctor mumbled her name lovingly into her ear.

"Arkytior."

When Rose woke up, Jimmy was gone and it was late in the morning. Her cheek throbbed and her eyes burned with the previous night's tears and fresh ones that came with the remembrance of yesterday. She forced herself to rise from the ground, limbs stiff and skin cold, and she dragged herself into the bedroom to call in sick, as she was already late anyway and had no desire whatsoever to be glanced at pityingly by her co-workers. The manager believed her, apparently thinking her choked tone of voice from trying not to burst into tears again was a cold or something. Rose wanted to curl up in bed and sleep until she felt better, but she didn't want to sleep in the same bed as Jimmy had (probably with someone other than her), and she knew she'd mess up her sleep patterns, so instead she padded into the en suite and took a shower. The water felt good on her stiff muscles and her bruise, and she had another good sob in there until it felt exhausting rather than liberating.

After her shower she did her makeup, trying to cover up the bruise with foundation and failing more than she thought she would. Instead, she kept her bangs slightly further to the right than she usually had them, so they concealed her bruise. Even though she wasn't going to work, she didn't want to spend the day in the house moping (as well as in case Jimmy came back, since the last thing she wanted to see right now was him) so she changed into a pair of tight jeans and a vest top to suit the summer air, snatched up her handbag and Great Expectations off the floor and left the flat.

She took the Tube uptown to the Thames, unconsciously putting as much distance between herself and her pathetic excuse of a boyfriend as she could, and walked into Victoria Tower Gardens, intent on plopping down on a bench and escaping from her stupid life into her book.

Instead, she watched Susan's grandfather clamber out of what looked from a distance to be a large, blue wooden box. Frowning, Rose tucked her book under her arm, ran her hands through her hair to make absolutely certain her bruise was covered (the last thing she needed was to see his smug I-told-you-so look) and approached him as he turned his back to everyone and locked the box. "Hello there."

He actually jumped, turning his wide eyes on her. "Young lady! Whatever are you doing here?"

"Nothing," she said airily, narrowing her eyes at the box-thing. "Came here to read and then I spotted you comin' out of a blue box." Before he could answer, Rose's attention had been turned to the box. She could hear gentle humming coming from it, the melody foreign, lilting and beautiful. "Is someone in there?"

He frowned in confusion. "Er, no. Why?"

"I swear I can hear..." she started to say, but then noticed his downright shocked expression had returned again, like the one he'd had when she said his bills were blank. She shook her head and smiled. "Never mind. What the hell were you doin' in there anyway?"

"It need not concern you," he said swiftly, steering her away from the mysterious singing box before his eyes darted down to the book clamped to her body. "What are you reading?"

She glanced down at it and waved it idly at him. "Oh, s'just Great Expectations."

"Charles Dickens!" he burst out, and Rose looked at him only to see him wearing that earth-shattering beam again.

"Yeah, you like him?" Rose said, grinning at him, tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth.

His eyes zeroed in on her tongue for a brief moment before returning to her eyes. "His literature is brilliant."

Rose nodded enthusiastically. "Completely brilliant. What's your favourite story?"

He tugged on his jacket, looking almost smug. "David Copperfield."

"Ah, that's the only story I haven't read by him yet!" Rose laughed.

They plopped down on a bench together, him leaning back and Rose turned almost fully so she could regard him. "Oh? What did you think of Oliver Twist, child?"

She had the feeling he was testing her knowledge, and for the first time in ages she felt particularly clever when she answered swiftly, "It was fantastic. Cried for an hour when Sikes murdered Nancy, 'cos she was so sweet to Oliver."

His grin seemed to grow at her answer. "What of Fagin?"

"A stereotypically grotesque character."

"Stereotypically?"

Rose nodded, frowning a little. "He was Jewish, yeah? And he was portrayed in the book like the classic Jewish villain— ugly, cruel to children, almost sociopathic and nearly completely remorseless."

He nodded, looking pleased with her, almost proud. "Indeed, our man Dickens seemed to be something of an anti-Semite, although he claimed otherwise." He peered down at her, still smiling like she'd just told him the answer to life's greatest question. "And what of Sikes' dog? Had it any relevance?"

Rose nodded, completely engrossed. "Absolutely. Dickens used heavy symbolism on Sikes' dog; it was like the dog was Sikes' shadow, following him around wherever he went, even into death."

He beamed. "You're clever, child."

Rose snorted. "No I'm not."

The smile disappeared at once. "Why do you think so?"

She shrugged. "'M just not." Then, because he'd probably ask anyway, being a nosy git, she added, "I didn't finish school."

"Neither did Charles Dickens," he said almost flatly, though he gave her a knowing smile.

Rose laughed. "Touché." They sat in what Rose thought to be a comfortable silence for a bit, until she noticed him fidgeting next to her and frowning at his knees. With an amused sigh she said, "Go on, ask it. I know you're dying to."

"Whatever do you mean, child?" he asked airily, though his eyes twinkled.

"Ask if it was his fault I didn't finish school," Rose said.

He hesitated at first, but when he understood she wouldn't get angry at him this time when she sent him another grin, he said quietly, "It was him, yes?"

She nodded, looking out onto the River Thames. "Yep."

Curiosity took hold and he turned fully towards her, looking contemplative. "How did you come across him?"

"Met Jimmy when I was seventeen. Everyone on the Estates wanted him, 'cos he was fit and older and talented." Rose snorted. "He told me he'd take me to see the world, 'cos I've always wanted to travel."

"Y-you have?" he all but stammered.

Rose nodded absently. "Yeah, but not just take two weeks in Egypt, don't drink the water, see a pyramid and then go home. I mean like actual travelling. Makin' a difference in other countries, helpin' people and things."

Rose lost herself in a reverie of her old desires while the man looked down at the grass, looking slightly shocked. Then, breaking her out of her thoughts, he said tentatively, "What about... what about in space?"

Rose laughed, eyes lighting up. "Oh, I think I'd die if I had the chance to go into space."

"Yeah?" he said, looking almost as excited as she did.

"Yeah!" Rose said happily. "And I mean, like, not just goin' up on the moon or in the space station, I mean like to the other planets and stuff." She sighed, not noticing the man was beaming again. "S'not gonna happen in my lifetime, though."

"Perhaps," he said airily, realising he was smiling at her like a buffoon and trying to shape his expression into neutrality (and failing).

"What's your name, anyway?" Rose said suddenly.

"Beg pardon?"

"Your name," she repeated. "We've met like three times and you haven't told me your name."

"Er," he said, tugging at his lapels. Briefly he wondered whether or not he should lie and say his name was John Smith, but one look at her tongue-in-teeth smile and he resolved to say, "I am the Doctor."

"Doctor what?"

He smiled. "Just the Doctor."

She quirked an eyebrow and said, trying out his name, "The Doctor. That's your name?" She shook her head, chuckling. "Blimey, you're an odd one."

"Oi!" he exclaimed indignantly, though he half-smiled.

"Well you are! You're a man called 'the Doctor' of all things, who tried to pay for a dress with a weird stick thing—"

"Er..."

"— and then a thing of bills that were all blank, until they weren't, who I then spotted comin' out of a weird singing box—"

"What?"

"— who also loves Charles Dickens, and who, by the way, is bloody nosy," Rose finished, tongue in teeth again as he flushed.

"Well, there's something to be said for you as well, Miss Rose Tyler," the Doctor said lightly, her name flowing out of his mouth so naturally it shocked him a bit. "Not many young women your age are clever enough to understand the points of a character in classic literature and have dreams to travel the stars."

"Maybe we're just two Dickens-loving nutters," Rose quipped, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Perhaps," he chuckled. His face suddenly paled, all trace of his previous peaceful happiness replaced with a look of horror. "What in Rassilon's name is that?"

Rose frowned and opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about before his hand suddenly shot out and brushed aside her hair; her stomach swooped when she remembered the bruise Jimmy had give n her yesterday night. The Doctor looked absolutely furious as he trailed his thumb over the bump, making her shiver.

"S'just a bruise," Rose said dismissively, not making any move to push his hand away.

"He did it, didn't he?" spat the Doctor, looking like he wanted to hunt down Jimmy and kick his arse. "Are you all right? Did he hit you anywhere else? Did—?"

He looked so frantic and panicky that Rose let go of Great Expectations and slipped her hands up to cradle his face, which slackened immediately at her gesture. "Doctor, I'm fine."

He still looked worried, even with her assurances, and it was a jolt of astonishment to Rose's system when he whispered, "He hurt you. Please don't stay with him."

It was like he was begging her. She felt bad for getting angry with him, especially if he was this concerned about her. It was... kind of sweet. She never had anyone looking out for her but herself for a long time. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them back.

Deciding, for both herself and for him, she mumbled, "I'm not gonna."

He looked relieved, and without warning he pulled her into a hug. For the first millisecond Rose was rigid, until she obediently relaxed into his hold, burying her face in his shoulder. Jimmy never held her anymore, not even after sex. And there was something about the man who called himself the Doctor, who cared and worried for her, a perfect stranger, that made Rose want to melt into his embrace and be immortalised that way.

When he went rigid, as if realising what he'd just done, Rose pulled away slowly and mumbled, "How'm I gonna do it, though?"

"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked, still holding one of her hands, eternally glad she had broken the awkward moment with speech.

"He'll be furious," Rose mumbled, almost ashamed. "He'll get so angry."

"I will not let him hurt you," he assured her, in a voice so determined it startled even himself.

She smiled at him, so sweetly his brain short-circuited. "All right." They both jumped as Big Ben chimed noon behind them, breaking the gentle moment. "Blimey, is that the time already?" Rose gasped, jumping up and picking up Great Expectations from the ground. "I've got to go."

"Ah, yes," he said, trying not to look too disappointed and standing as well. "Goodbye to you, Rose Tyler."

"Goodbye, Doctor," Rose said, giving him another tongue-touched grin. "I'll see you later, yeah? And next time, I won't be with Jimmy."

He beamed at her even as she turned her back on him and walked away.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors and stepped into the console room, giving the TARDIS a distracted half-smile when she hummed at him in greeting. Ever since that Rose Tyler woman had left, he'd thought of her non-stop, and it was starting to make him nervous. He kept repeating that day's events over in his mind like a private film, making him feel a maelstrom of emotions ranging from worry that that arse of a human might hurt her, to hope that she really would leave him and something warm and fuzzy that made a smile come to his mouth whenever he thought of her. Clever Rose Tyler. She loved Charles Dickens, which was a plus, and she was able to understand the finer points of his books even though she hadn't finished school. He scowled at the time rotor when he thought of that. It was all because of him that she hadn't grown up to be a philosopher or something. He cared for her, a little more than he should, and the thought of her being struck by that arse made his stomach churn. She promised to leave him, and relief welled up inside of him like a volcanic eruption in the making. Then — his face heated up when he remembered this — he'd swept her into a hug in the heat of the moment. She smelled wonderful, like vanilla and her namesake.

He felt bad about initially thinking she was just another stupid girl— he'd called her 'child' at first because that's what she had been to him, nothing more than a human child, but now he saw her as a clever young woman who had potential the size of Mount Perdition, and 'child' was now an ancient term he could never again use with her.

And she had dreams of seeing space and helping people.

The TARDIS hummed with delight at that thought, and the Doctor grinned up at the ceiling. "Strange, is it not? A London girl who wishes to travel among the stars runs into the only alien in the world with a time-and-spaceship." His ship chimed in his mind and suggested he invite her aboard, which made him chuckle almost sadly. "Don't be silly. Humans can't comprehend our world; she wouldn't believe anything I tell her."

Before his ship could reply, Susan opened the TARDIS doors and walked into the console room, still dressed in her school uniform. "Evening, Grandfather."

"Good evening, Susan," the Doctor said, not taking his hands off the console even as he turned to smile at her. "How was school?"

"I passed my science test with bonus marks, Grandfather. Mister Chesterton was really pleased!"

"Excellent, Susan."

They stood in a brief silence as Susan rummaged around in her handbag for her textbooks.

"I think you may be right about that Rose Tyler woman, Susan," the Doctor said quietly, even as he patted the turquoise console and let the TARDIS's gentle hum wash over his mind.

"Why, Grandfather?"

"I met her in the park today, reading Great Expectations," the Doctor mumbled, and Susan giggled. "You were right. She is remarkably bright." He paused. "She could also hear the TARDIS." Susan gasped. "And she says she's always wanted to travel, to help people... and to go into space," he added on a mumble.

Susan beamed and clutched her hands to her chest. "Do you still believe this is all a coincidence?"

The Doctor sighed. "No, Susan, I do not. I do believe Rose Tyler is — or will be — something particularly special."

Susan gawked at the starry-eyed, almost soft expression that came across his face. Her stuffy old grandfather, making a face like that! "Grandfather, do you love her?"

Face heating up like the twin suns of the constellation of Kasterborous, the Doctor spluttered for a bit before fuming heatedly, "Susan, do not be ridiculous! I do not love Rose Tyler!"

His ship did the equivalent of a scoff of insistence before showing him images of Rose Tyler taken straight from his memories, of her with that charming smile of hers. He'd unconsciously counted how many times she'd smiled at him with her tongue caught between her teeth, and the total was four, and all right, maybe he had noticed that she was a relatively beautiful human as far as humans went, but he wasn't in love with her.

Not yet, the TARDIS smirked in the back of his mind.

Susan nodded, even though she was clearly fighting back a big smile. "Whatever you say, Grandfather." Susan bounced past him clutching her textbooks so she could study, leaving him in the console room, red-faced and disgruntled.

Jackie Tyler was having a good day. Not only did she manage to get everything done that she'd been putting off for ages, she and Bev had had a great shopping day; she had also managed to catch at the last minute the new EastEnders (and spent the whole of it squealing with delight) and Howard had come over for a quickie, so all in all she was pretty happy. All of that paled in comparison to answering the doorbell and finding her only daughter on the other end of it holding her rucksack and bearing a half-smile.

"OH, MY ROSIE!" Jackie all but screamed, tossing herself through the doorway and flinging her arms around her daughter to pull her into a bear hug.

"Unh, hi Mum," Rose grunted, having to drop her rucksack to return the hug.

"What's all this then?" Jackie said, gesturing toward the rucksack once she pulled away.

Rose's eyes skimmed to the floor and her hand flew up to play with her earring. "Um... I left him, Mum. Jimmy."

Jackie beamed at her daughter. "Oh, Rose, sweetheart! What made you come to?"

Rose ducked her head again, realising her bruise was still hidden by her hair. "A lot of things, Mum."

"Well, 'm not complainin', I'll tell you that! Does this mean you're movin' back in? I've got your room still set up an' everything! Oh, I have to ring Bev and tell her!"

Jackie ushered her daughter inside, beaming enough to light a room, and put the kettle on while Rose went to dump her things in her room (she didn't ring Bev; even she knew that, if she did, the conversation wouldn't end for hours). Jackie made Rose a cuppa and they sat down at the table together so Rose could tell her what had transpired.

"Well, for starters, he hit me again," Rose began, showing her mother the bruise. Jackie looked about ready to go into rant-mode, so Rose quickly continued, "It's sort of silly how I realised I needed to just up and leave, actually. Was comin' out of the pub with Jimmy, 'cos we just had a gig, yeah, and when Jimmy goes round back to get our pay for the night, this old bloke just blurts out that I should kick him to the curb." Rose shook her head, chuckling softly at the antics of the Doctor she now regarded fondly. "I got mad at first, yeah, but then like two weeks later the same bloke shows up at Henrik's."

"Was he stalking you?" Jackie asked, looking nervous.

"That's what I thought at first! Turned out he was just looking for a prom dress for his granddaughter, Susan. Oh, Mum, you'd love Susan, she's the sweetest teenager you'd ever meet. Came to the pub to apologise for her grandfather bein' a nosy git."

Rose giggled just as Jackie narrowed her eyes. "So what does this bloke have to do with you leavin' Jimmy?"

"Well, it was just after Jimmy hit me," Rose said, avoiding her mother's eye. "Went to Victoria Tower Gardens to read and spotted him comin' out some odd blue box. Ended up spending the rest of the morning talkin' about Charles Dickens and things. Then he saw the bruise and..." Rose bit her lip, suddenly becoming contemplative. "He just... flipped, Mum. You shoulda seen him, he actually begged me to leave Jimmy. I promised him I would, an' I did. Just up and left. Didn't even leave him a note, not that he deserved one."

Jackie's lips were pursed. "When you say 'older bloke'—"

Rose's face flamed. "Mum, s'not like that! He's got a granddaughter!"

"That don't mean he ain't just another lonely older bloke tryin' to take advantage of a young lady, Rose. How old is he?"

"Fifty, maybe, sixty... I dunno, I didn't ask!" Rose snorted. "Besides, he wouldn't want someone like me anyway. He's like this sophisticated old bloke and calls me 'child' all the time."

"What's his name?"

"The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

Rose grinned, tongue between her teeth as she repeated the Doctor's own words, "Just the Doctor."

Jackie did a double-take. "That's not his name, that's an occupation!"

"Tell him that, not me!" Rose laughed. "Trust me, Mum, he's probably not lying. He's the oddest bloke I've ever met."

"D'you love him?"

Rose flushed scarlet and half-shouted, "Mum, don't be ridiculous! I just left Jimmy!"

Jackie shrugged. "Whatever you say." She paused. "Maybe I ought to invite him over for dinner."

"Why, to see if he's just an older Jimmy?" Rose said, narrowing her eyes.

"Maybe," said Jackie airily. "I also need to think the bloke who saved my daughter from Jimmy Stone! So, go on, what's his number?" she added, phone already in hand.

"I dunno his number, Mum, or if he even has one," Rose muttered.

"Well then, what the bloody hell did you talk about the whole time?"

Rose went red. "Um, Charles Dickens."

Jackie burst into laughter. Rose half-hid her face in her hands, waiting until her mother stopped. Jackie re-emerged a moment later, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Oh, Rose, no wonder you've got an old codger lustin' after you."

"Mum, he's not—"

"All right, let's try it this way. Tomorrow afternoon we'll go to Victoria Tower Gardens an' see if he's hangin' around there, an' if he is you can invite him over! Oh, and that Susan girl too, I s'pose."

Rose bit her lip, not entirely certain whether or not she ought to agree. As much as she'd love to have the Doctor and Susan over to show her appreciation, her mother could be unbelievably embarrassing and would probably seize the first chance she got to drill the Doctor and ask if he was shagging her.

"I suppose," she mumbled.

Jackie beamed. "Brilliant! Then it's settled. Now, I have to go and phone Bev; she'll just die when she hears the news!"

Rose stood from the table and headed into her old (now current) room to unpack her things. Tossing most of her clothes in the bin to be washed, as she rarely had the time to do laundry when living with Jimmy (and it wasn't like they could afford a washer) Rose faltered when she came to the old, written-on copy of Great Expectations. It was Jimmy's, but when she was cleaning out their flat of her stuff she found herself slipping it into her bag. Besides, it wasn't like he was ever going to read it. Rose put it on her tiny shelf next to a couple of old magazines, cringing at her empty shelf and wishing she had more classic literature than a severely-mistreated Great Expectations.

Then it hit her. She had actually just left Jimmy. Tears swam in her eyes as she found herself thinking about the good times she'd had with him, but before she could go into a crying fit, an image of the Doctor's delighted smile bloomed clear in her mind. Rose wiped her eyes, refusing to cry or feel upset about her decision, because when she took a moment to add up the pros and cons of leaving him, the pros severely outnumbered the cons. She'd tell the Doctor what she'd done, and he'd be proud of her.

And if that was all that mattered to her, well, that was her business.

The next morning was a bright Saturday, which gave Rose ample opportunity to sleep in instead of having to get up and go to work. Instead of padding out into her old tiny kitchen to cook Jimmy breakfast, Rose woke to the smell of her mum's traditional English breakfast. Jackie fussed over her daughter the whole morning, refilling her mug with tea every time Rose got low and even insisting that they sit down and watch a film like they used to. It was wonderful, having her mum dote on her instead of it being the other way around; Rose had forgotten what it was like to have somebody else looking out for her other than herself, and she spent a good twenty minutes crying on her mum's shoulder whilst snuggling in front of Pretty Woman.

When it came time to head to the park, Rose was feeling jittery, nervous and excited all at once. She actually found herself amidst a pile of her clothes, wondering what to wear, before realising with a blush that the Doctor wouldn't give a flying fuck what she wore and that she was being stupid, so she ended up closing her eyes and choosing whatever she picked up, which turned out to be (embarrassingly) a tight vest top and a pair of skinny denim jeans.

Rose and Jackie walked to Victoria Tower Gardens, Rose secretly keeping an eye out for a certain blue box just in case he came out of it again (she wouldn't hold it past him) and it wasn't long before they arrived and Jackie swanned off to chat up a stranger, leaving Rose in the bright sunshine by herself. One quick sweep around the park with her eyes caught on not a police box nor a white-haired Doctor, but a pixie-like little brunette at the waterfront.

Rose grinned and she waved vigorously, calling out, "Susan!"

Susan turned on her heel, face splitting into a beam that almost startled Rose. "Miss Rose!" To Rose's immense surprise, and delight, Susan jogged up to her and pulled her into a chaste but tight hug. Pulling back, Susan said, still beaming, "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Susan, thanks," Rose said happily, pleased with the excited greeting. "You?"

"Grandfather and I are doing wonderfully, thank you Miss Rose," Susan said.

"Just call me Rose, Susan, don't need to call me Miss."

"Rose?" came the astonished, tentative voice of the Doctor from behind her.

Susan beamed again and stepped back so Rose could whirl around and take in the wide-eyed Doctor who looked both taken aback and slightly hopeful. By default she felt a grin growing on her mouth, and upon calling out happily, "Doctor!" she hurried over to him and tossed her arms around his neck.

Instead of going rigid, like she'd expected, he immediately slipped his hands round her waist and hugged her close, burying his face in her hair, and her heart started to beat in her throat. They rocked on their feet together, warm in their embrace and their own little world and the warm cascade of sunlight, neither aware that Susan was clutching her hands to her chest and looking close to squealing and Jackie was staring at them with her jaw dropped to the ground, the handsome stranger next to her forgotten. It wasn't until Rose remembered both the previous day's decision and her mother's desired invitation that Rose (extremely reluctantly) pulled back.

"I did it," she told him, keeping her arms on his shoulders.

His face positively lit up in a way that had nothing to do with the sunlight. "You left him?"

She nodded, and he beamed, looking so proud of her it made tears well up in her eyes. Bursting out, "Oh, my dear girl!" he picked her up and spun her around, with shocking strength for a man his age, whatever his age was, and she laughed delightedly to cover up the embarrassingly thrilling fact that his hands were on her bottom. He seemed to realise what he'd just done and set her down hastily, whipping his hands off her bum, face burning when he remembered Susan was in close proximity and she had probably seen every second of that.

To erase the moment of awkwardness (and because he had just swept his eyes over her exposed cleavage without thinking) the Doctor said quickly, "Tell me what happened."

Since he was fidgeting with his hands, undecided on whether he should stick them in his pockets, rock them back and forth at his sides or run them through his already combed-back hair, she took them in hers and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Nothing, really. Just packed up all my things and left. Didn't even leave him a note or say goodbye or anything."

"He doesn't deserve a goodbye," snorted the Doctor, before hoping he hadn't just been rude again and made her hate him.

To his immense relief, she smiled gently. "No, he didn't; that's why I didn't give him one."

He smiled back at her, in what he was certain was probably something soppy-looking — he tried not to think 'enamoured' — before realising she didn't have Great Expectations with her. Daring for a moment to think she actually wanted his company, he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful, "Whyever did you come to the park, Rose?"

Blushing a little at her intended answer, and because he'd just used her name so casually, she said, "Well, I've moved back in with my mum, and I've told her about you, so we want to have you and Susan round for dinner tonight. If-if you want to," she added quickly.

His face went slightly slack at that, blinking as though he were disoriented. Surely he couldn't have heard her properly. But she was standing there, still gripping his hands with her lovely cheeks flushed slightly pink and looking expectant, so he managed to force out, "How terribly domestic."

He inwardly cursed himself — why was he so bloody rude? — but Rose simply giggled and brushed her thumb over his knuckles affectionately. "Yeah, I s'pose it's that."

With a (hopefully) charming grin to cover up the nervousness/excitement bubbling in his chest, he raised one of her hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles, hoping the glazed look in her eyes at the gesture wasn't just his imagination. "Susan and I would be honoured, Rose Tyler."

She beamed, and there he went again, feeling light-headed and probably drooling a bit. "Brilliant! I'll write down the address, if you've a pen an' paper...?"

Reluctantly, he released one of her hands to dig around in his pockets again, and Rose could swear his pockets were bigger on the inside if she didn't know that was against the laws of physics. "Ah, here we are!" he said triumphantly, pulling out a notepad and pen combination from a hotel on Eden Prime and handing it to her.

Rose narrowed her eyes at the logo on the notepad. "Eden Prime?" she read aloud. "What's that?"

"Er, a popular hotel chain in North America," he lied quickly, trying not to look too flustered. "Susan and I visited there once."

"Sounds like something they'd name a planet," Rose observed, too absentmindedly for it to be anything but a coincidence.

Bollocks, she was so attentive and clever! "Erm, perhaps."

Rose shrugged and motioned with a twirl of her finger for him to turn around. He complied, and she used his back as a surface to write down her address and her number, blushing when she found herself thinking about how he had a nice bum. She tore off the page and handed it back to him when he turned around, along with his other things. The pen and notepad he stuffed haphazardly into his pockets, but the address he seemed to cradle.

"Any particular time you would prefer?" the Doctor asked.

"Come whenever," Rose grinned, poking her tongue between her teeth, holding it there a moment longer than usual when his eyes flickered between it and her face. "See you then, yeah?"

"Yes, yes," he smiled, and for the first time, he had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss her, but he refrained because it would undoubtedly not be welcomed. "Until then, fair Rose Tyler."

She smiled and blushed ever so becomingly at the endearment he'd unconsciously added on, and with one final squeeze of his hand she turned and walked back to an older-looking, gaping blonde woman whom the Doctor hoped with all his might wasn't her mother. As he watched Rose walk away, arm in arm with the woman, Susan sidled up to him looking mischievous.

"Are you sure you aren't in love with her, Grandfather?" Susan said quietly.

He opened his mouth to snap at her, but it got caught in his throat and instead he sighed. "Not anymore, Susan."

All the meanwhile, Rose walked away with Jackie, who was practically having a conniption right next to her. "How the sodden hell d'you think he's not into you, Rosie?"

"'Cos he's not, Mum!"

Jackie scoffed. "I just saw him pick you up by your bum and twirl you about lookin' like you just agreed to marry him."

Rose flushed and kicked at non-existent dust. "That never happened before 'til today."

"What changed? Jimmy did, then?"

"Yeah, Mum," Rose said, shooting Jackie a glare. "But not in the way you think. He was just proud of me for dumpin' him finally."

"Well there's no denying that, not from the way he looked before," Jackie said. "But the rest of the times he looked nervous as a rabbit and like he wanted to snog you into the ground. You looked the same, actually," Jackie added, looking pointedly at her flushing daughter. "You don't actually want to snog him, do you?"

Rose fidgeted and mumbled something that sounded like, "Wouldn't mind."

"He's not even your type!" Jackie burst out, jaw on the ground. "Thought you liked 'em young and fit!"

"Yeah, look where that got me," Rose muttered, rubbing her still bruised cheek.

"Yeah, but that aside, what about him is so bloody special?"

Rose turned, hands on her hips. "Y'wanna know, Mum? He may be old enough to be my dad, but he doesn't treat me like he's an all-knowing adult and I'm this young, annoying little girl. Well, not anymore," Rose mumbled, remembering their first encounter. "He calls me clever 'cos I read Charles Dickens and can get the symbolism in Oliver Twist. He thinks it's something fantastic when I say I want to travel in space, instead of callin' it ridiculous and unobtainable. An' he actually likes my company instead of tolerates it. We can talk about actual things, yeah, instead of who shagged who and which celebrity's guest-starring on EastEnders. Plus," she added, flushing to the ends of her hair, "whenever he smiles, it makes him look years younger."

If Jackie's jaw had gotten any lower, she would have tripped over it. Blimey, her daughter had it bad. "Sweetheart, did you ever even stop an' think about a certain something?"

"What?"

"The fact that he has a granddaughter, and for one to have a granddaughter one must also have a daughter, etcetera, etcetera?"

Rose's heart dropped into her stomach. She hadn't thought about that at all. She wondered briefly if he had a wife and she was just some young thing he was playing around with, before realising something and saying, "He's so lonely, though, Mum. It doesn't seem to me like he's got anyone except Susan."

Jackie hummed, scrutinising her daughter, who looked a bit down. Slipping an arm round Rose's shoulder, she gave her a squeeze. "Tell you what. We're seein' him tonight at dinner. You can prove to me he's this fantastic bloke, and I'll support you, no matter what. Even if you want to shag him," Jackie added, and Rose's face could have caught fire. "Now that I mention it, he does have a fit bum."

Rose burst into laughter, clutching her mother for support. Well, at least she wasn't the only one who'd noticed.

When it came time to make dinner for the Doctor and Susan, Rose refused to let Jackie help with anything besides telling her where she kept certain utensils. Cooking for Jimmy for the past six years had made her an excellent cook and she set out to make the most fantastic dinner she's ever made, determined to give the Doctor another reason to admire her besides her ability to pick apart Oliver Twist. Rose flitted about the kitchen, bouncing on the balls of her feet whilst making dinner and even humming at one point before Jackie started to snicker at her and she stopped. Jackie left briefly to go to a shop and pick up some rolls and wine for dinner, returning with two bottles of relatively expensive stuff ("Old codger like that, bet he likes his wine expensive and aged!" Jackie scoffed), returning after a brief period of time, which gave Rose enough time to touch up her make-up (Jackie clearly noticed, though she didn't do anything but smirk). Eventually the kitchen smelled of delicious oven-roasted garlic potatoes, baked spiced chicken and seasoned vegetables.

Jackie wafted in after watching her EastEnders, sniffing the air. "Rose, that smells bloody brilliant!"

Rose, who had already dished out all of the food onto plates, kept glancing over it to make sure there wasn't a vegetable askew or something. "D'you reckon?"

Jackie fluffed her daughter's hair, beaming. "Yeah. My Rosie, London's greatest chef! S'probably the only good thing that came out of your relationship with that Jimmy wanker."

"That and Charles Dickens," Rose mumbled, grinning despite herself.

"... never used to be able to cook, you, always made a mess of everything," Jackie continued, oblivious to her daughter's comment. "Remember that time I tried showin' you how to make bread, and I came back ten minutes later and the dough was on the ceiling?" Jackie collapsed into giggles. "An' you say you had no idea how it got up there!" She wiped her eyes. "But you did good here, love. That Doctor bloke better 'ppreciate it, too. I'll tell him you slaved over the oven for hours."

"You will not," Rose ordered, flushing.

"Well, s'true," Jackie shrugged. "At least this time the food stayed off my ceiling."

Rose opened her mouth to tell her mum off for bringing up her younger self's escapades when there was a extremely soft, timid-sounding knock at the door, followed by Susan's voice giggling, "Grandfather, you ought to knock harder than that!", then a disgruntled response of, "I know how to do it, Susan," and another louder knock.

Panic welled up in her chest despite the overheard adorable exchange between grandfather and granddaughter, but it was quelled when Jackie abruptly positioned herself in front of her terrified-looking daughter and gave her hair another fluff.

"You look lovely," she told Rose, who gave her a pointed look. "Just push your tits up a bit and—"

"Mum, no!"

Rose fought the urge to hide in the kitchen and make her mum open the door, wanting to greet the Doctor and Susan herself. Internally she tried to calm herself by remembering that morning, how utterly thrilled he'd looked when she'd told him she'd dumped Jimmy, and that made her smile a little and open the door without ceremony. For a brief moment the Doctor stared at her just as he had when he'd first spotted her in the park, looking for all the world like he was shocked she was even looking at him let alone opening the door to invite him in, Susan half-hiding behind him and beaming into his coat.

Sensing that this was probably going to go on for a bit if she didn't stop it, Rose grinned at him, poking her tongue between her teeth. "Hello."

She wished he'd look at her like that forever, where his whole look of shock crumbled into that soft — dare she say loving? — smile that chased away the weariness of age. "Hello."

Susan didn't add in her own greeting, knowing this moment was for Rose and her smitten grandfather. Instead she let herself be led in by Rose into their small but efficient council Estates flat, smiling politely at the older blonde woman who was scanning them over with a look that suggested she was trying to analyse them.

"Um, Doctor, Susan," Rose started, fidgeting a bit and shooting her mum a glare to get her to stop with the scrutinising looks. "This is my mum."

"Jacqueline Tyler, call me Jackie," Rose's mother said, smiling with half-warmth half-motherly suspicion as she shook both of their hands.

Once the awkward introductions were out of the way, Jackie led them to the table and they all sat down in front of the delicious-looking meal laid out almost professionally in front of them. Almost the moment they sat down next to each other (Jackie's strategic seating plan being Rose to the Doctor's left, Susan to his right and Jackie directly across from him so she could keep a sharp eye on him) the Doctor happened to glance over at Jackie's film shelf and spotted old version of the Count of Monte Cristo. Rose followed his eyes when they lit up and, upon a flare of excitement over another classic story she'd read, their eyes met in a secret exchange of grins.

Without even pausing to ask whether or not she'd even read the Count of Monte Cristo, the Doctor asked whilst popping a potato into his mouth, "Tell me, Rose, what did you think of the dynamic between Edmond and his two potential lovers?"

Susan beamed to herself and Jackie's jaw hit the floor when Rose replied smoothly, "Mercedes represented to Edmond all that he'd lost, his youthful innocence, his freedom and his hopes while Haydee represented all that he could have in life now that he's a man of experience and knowledge."

Now Jackie knew precisely what Rose had been talking about when she'd mentioned the Doctor's looks of pride. He was full-on beaming at her, looking like she'd just answered life's great questions and he couldn't be more proud of her. Jackie felt herself tearing up at that and stuffed a forkful of chicken into her mouth to prevent a sniffle from getting out. Their dynamic wasn't that of a lonely old man lusting after a naive young girl like Rose, it was more like he was encouraging an equally lonely person to come out of her shell made from the stereotypes of where she'd come from and prove her brilliance, and that when she did, he'd been amazed at what he'd discovered. And he preferred to marvel in her cleverness without remarking to Jackie about it, strengthening Rose's voiced theory that he didn't view her as a younger party but rather his equal.

After they'd giggled over their shared analysis of French literature, Rose refrained from shooting him another tongue-in-teeth grin and turned her attention to Susan. "So, Susan, what are you doing in school?"

It didn't seem like Rose was just asking to include Susan into the conversation; she was genuinely interested. It'd been ages since she last went to school and sometimes she even found herself missing it. With a knowing smile Susan said, "I'm focusing mainly on history and the sciences."

"Susan continues to baffle her teachers with her brilliance," said the Doctor, looking so proud it bordered on smug. "I've gotten several letters from Miss Wright and Mr. Chesserton."

"Chesterton, Grandfather," Susan corrected, she and Rose sharing an amused glance and a giggle.

"Whatever," the Doctor sniffed, waving his hand idly.

"Speakin' of school, is there anyone you're going with to your prom, Susan?" Rose asked.

For the first time since Rose had met the little teenager, she blushed into her dinner. "Y-yes."

The Doctor smirked whilst Rose and Jackie grinned. "Well, go on then, who's the lucky one?"

"A-a fellow student, David Campbell," Susan stammered.

"Aw, you fancy him!" Rose beamed, wanting to jump over to Susan and hug her. She remembered when she was Susan's age (although Susan was a lot better behaved than Rose had been), fancying her schoolmates without any of the drama she had nowadays.

They ate and talked and laughed; the Doctor managed to have Rose and Jackie almost on the floor with laughter when Jackie asked whether he'd watched EastEnders and he'd asked, "Is that a horror programme?" Somewhere along the line the Doctor's hand found Rose's under the table, shocking her, but it wasn't exactly like she wanted to pull away, so they held hands beneath the tablecloth and her heart raced the entire time, though she tried to pretend otherwise. It wasn't until their plates were clean and she, the Doctor and Susan began chattering excitedly about the finer points of Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express that Jackie started to get bored — she wasn't a reader unless it was Harlequins or magazines — and changed the subject to Susan's rather 1960s-looking wardrobe.

"Not that the ensemble isn't gorgeous, sweetheart, but doesn't that grandfather of yours take you out for some shopping?" Jackie said, shooting the Doctor a look as though he'd done something wrong.

Giving the Doctor's hand a squeeze when he looked affronted, Rose said, "I have some old clothes I was gonna give to charity, if you want them, Susan."

Susan's eyes lit up, reminding Rose once again of the Doctor's whenever she mentioned something about Charles Dickens. "Really?"

Rose nodded and smiled. "'Course. Hope you don't mind pink, 'cos that's most of it."

As she and Susan rose, Rose gave the Doctor's hand one last squeeze before letting go, his fingers trailing across her palm. After shooting her mum a warning glare not to bring up anything forbidden in front of the Doctor, Rose led Susan into her room, cringing at its messiness and heading straight for her bottom drawer where she kept all of her old clothes. Grabbing them by the bundle and plopping them on the unmade bed, Rose motioned for Susan to sit on the bed next to her as they began to pick apart Rose's old clothes. Susan got a little shy when it came to taking off her shirt to try on one of Rose's old shirts, but at Rose's assurance of 'we're all girls here' she obeyed, growing more comfortable after a bit.

"Rose?" Susan said, as Rose was holding one of her old tank tops and trying to picture Susan in it.

"Hm?"

"Do you love my grandfather?"

Rose's head snapped up and she regarded Susan through wide eyes. It didn't seem to be an accusation, more like a curious question. Playing with a hole in her duvet, Rose mumbled, "I dunno." They were silent, and Rose chanced a glance at Susan, expecting to see her solemn; however the pixie-like teenager was beaming. "What?"

"Grandfather and I are all by ourselves," Susan explained, still beaming away like Rose had just crowned her Queen. "I have a few friends at school, but he does not." Rose felt a pang for the Doctor; lonely, just as she'd suspected. "It takes a lot to impress Grandfather, but he's very taken with you, Rose."

Rose blushed to her toes, hiding her face in her tank top. "Yeah?"

Susan nodded before saying bluntly, "I do hope you and Grandfather decide to get together."

Rose's face nearly caught fire. She stumbled over her words for almost a full minute before saying, "Susan, I just came out of a relationship. It isn't smart to jump into another."

Besides, he doesn't love you. He can't.

"Right," said Susan, nodding but still looking hopeful.

As the Doctor reluctantly let go of Rose's hand so she and his granddaughter could play dress-up, he noticed Jackie Tyler's eyes following Rose's back. The moment the click of the door was heard, the Doctor expected Jackie to start talking about that EastEnders thing, but instead she turned her eyes inquisitively on the Doctor and blurted out, "What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

"I beg your pardon?" he blinked, confused.

"You heard me, Mister," Jackie said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Lord knows I can't thank you enough for givin' her the kick in the arse she needed to up and leave that Jimmy wanker, but now that she's single, what're you gonna do?"

The Doctor fought the urge to get angry and shout, and tugged on his lapels. "I have nothing but the utmost respect for your daughter, Miss Tyler."

"Mm hm," Jackie said, still not looking entirely convinced. "How old are you?"

He scowled and opened his mouth to tell her it was none of her business, but then he remembered this was the mother of a dear friend who thought he wanted to... do human things with her. "I am... fifty-two," he lied.

Had Jackie been as clever as Rose, he couldn't help but think, she would have taken his hesitation and recognised the lie. Instead she nodded, almost like she expected it. "An' are you aware Rose is only twenty-three?"

He did a double-take and burst out, "Twenty-three and that brilliant? I mean, er..." he added, flushing and finding his napkin suddenly very interesting.

Jackie let a chuckle slip — she could see why Rose liked this fellow — but schooled her features back into scrutinisation. "Yes, twenty-three. An' nobody's ever noticed how brilliant she is, 'cos she's an Estates girl." Before he could say anything in reply she frowned. "Is your name really 'the Doctor'?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe that," Jackie sniffed. "Show me your papers." The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and withdrew the psychic paper, handing it to her across the table and hoping whatever was making Rose partially immune to the paper's effects didn't stretch to Jackie Tyler. Apparently it didn't, because she grinned down at the paper and handed it back to him. "Blimey, it really is. That's unfortunate, innit?"

He scowled at her. "Quite."

Jackie smirked at him over their plates before her look softened, as did his when she said, "You make Rose happy. Y'know, she's the one who cooked all this. Didn't let me lift a finger." He swallowed, a lump in his throat. "An' she'd never've left Jimmy without you. An' even though you could be her dad, the two of you are obviously smitten with each other—"

"What?"

"—so if you two wanna go round snogging over Charles Dickens, go ahead an' do it. But if you break her heart, I'll smack you all the way to India."

"I'm sure you will," he grumbled for lack of anything better to say, well aware his cheeks were probably the colour of Skaro.

Thankfully, Rose emerged a split second later, holding out her arms and saying, "Ta-da!" as Susan emerged, blushing and looking good in a pair of denim jeans and a pink flowery jumper.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look lovely," Jackie cooed, all previous drilling forgotten.

Even the Doctor grinned at her. "Marvellous."

Rose fetched a bag for the rest of Susan's clothes, and Jackie gathered up the dishes and bid the Doctor and Susan an early goodbye so she could start the washing. Rose saw Susan and the Doctor to the door, allowing Susan to give her another startlingly tight hug and thank her for the clothes. When Susan stepped out to give the Doctor and Rose some privacy, Rose once again tossed her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, the Doctor responding so vigorously he lifted her off her feet.

"I'll see you, yeah?" she murmured into his shoulder. "Tomorrow?"

"In the park?" he asked, and when she nodded he hummed contentedly into her neck. "Wonderful."

When Rose pulled away, she could have sworn his head dipped forward a little and Rose's breath caught in her throat — was he going to kiss her? — but he ducked away quickly and he smiled at her. "Goodnight, Rose Tyler."

Rose closed the door behind him and resisted the urge to lean against it and sigh like a corny romance novel. Jackie poked her head out of the kitchen and seemed to guess that's what she wanted to do.

"Rose?"

"Yeah Mum?" Rose called.

"You were right," Jackie said, and Rose beamed. "He's a fantastic bloke, that one."

"Told ya!" she laughed, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the doorjamb.

"Thinks your brilliant," Jackie added. "An' he's got a fit bum. I give you permission to snog him."

"'M not gonna, Mum."

Jackie dropped the pan into the soapy water and raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Why the hell not? You two are obnoxiously in love with each other."

"Are not," Rose muttered. "'Sides, he's just lonely. Susan told me s'just the two of 'em. Also, he's at least thirty years my senior."

"He said he was fifty-two," Jackie said.

Rose giggled. "You managed to get his age out of him? When I asked, all he said was, and I quote—" she tugged at her jumper like the Doctor would and straightened up, "—'My age is none of your business, young lady.'"

Jackie chuckled. "Sounds like him. But age doesn't mean nothing, love, not when it comes to what you two have. Heck, your dad was a good eleven years older'n me! Your gran went mad when she found out!"

"Eleven years is a lot less than twenty-nine," Rose mumbled. "Mum, the Doctor is brilliant. He wouldn't want a child."

"Right, an' that's why he was holdin' your hand under the table," her mum said slyly, and Rose flushed. "Give it some time, sweetheart. If you're not in love with him yet, you will be."

Rose couldn't help but agree.

Rose went to bed smiling and woke up bright and early doing the same. Jackie was already up, still fussing over her and insisting she get a proper breakfast before she 'ran off to make googly eyes at her Doctor.' Sweeping up Great Expectations and putting it into her bag, Rose gulped down her breakfast and headed out quickly, ever eager to see the Doctor and spend another morning waxing literary devices.

It wasn't until she was walking past an alley separating a café and an electronics store that she was suddenly hauled by her arm into the shaded alley with force that would surely leave a bruise. She tried to shriek out in pain and alarm but a hand clamped around her mouth before she could, while the other hand dragged herby her arm to around the alley's corner into the back of the stores. Rose was suddenly shoved down onto the pavement, the skin on her arm scraping away at the impact, and she opened her mouth to shout again only to be interrupted.

"Hello, love," Jimmy spat. "Miss me?"

A/N: I was reluctant to post this because of the supposed 'age difference' (even though we all know the Doctor's not really fifty-two ;D) but I did anyway so there. Sorry if it offends anyone. Mentions of Great Expectations and content in Oliver Twist and David Copperfield are © Charles Dickens; mentions of content in the Count of Monte Cristo is © Alexandre Dumas; and I'll toss on a © to Flyleaf for the mention of the band :) just in case. Next and final chapter to be posted soon; please review, hope you like!

PS in desperate need of a Whobeta o: any suggestions/volunteers?

PPS this is T for suggestive themes for now, but I'm debating whether or not to put in a Doctor/Rose smut scene in the next chapter. Does anyone want/not want that?