CHARACTERS: Rose/Nine

SETTING: Takes place sometime after "Father's Day" (1x8) and before "The Empty Child" (1x9). No significant spoilers.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: We start with the Doctor's innocent mistake that sparks Rose's misery and fans her mother's fury. We end tucked in.

"I'll be back; just going to run out and grab a paper real quick."

"Desperate for a taste of current events, are we?"

"Just want to know if I need to shop the "belated" section when I pick up my mum's birthday card," Rose called with a laugh, halfway out the TARDIS door.

10 minutes later she returned with a paper and a smile. "Well done, Doctor. Right on schedule!"

He didn't blame her for double checking, as the TARDIS tended to be a bit temperamental about timing arrivals and had caused more than a bit of trouble for Rose with her mother before. He glanced over her shoulder as he walked past; she was thumbing through the entertainment section. "Looking for something in particular?"

"Yeah - show times. I missed the 4th Harry Potter while you and I have been gone. It's long out of the regular cinemas by now, but when we chatted last mum said the old place near the Estate was playing it again and she wanted us to go."

"Ah," he said noncommittally, humming as he tinkered with the console.

"You can come with, you know. Should be a good show."

"Nah - seen it already. Seen most of 'em, actually. Didn't really fancy them."

She raised an eyebrow incredulously. "What, are you mental? Did you at least read the books?"

"For your information, Rose Tyler, I've had a wealth of literature to choose from over the years... from this planet and many others. Harry Potter wasn't exactly high on my list of must-reads."

"Oh, but they're fabulous! I suppose I'm one behind now; came out since I've been away. Maybe once the series is done I'll ask mum to get it for me. Then we'll have to take a bit of a vacation from "danger and intrigue" so I can get caught up."

"As you say." Still tinkering. "You'll be needing some money, I suppose."

It hadn't occurred to her to ask. "What's this now?" she laughed. "Am I to be a kept woman?"

"Consider it an allowance for saving the world a bit." He left the room for a moment and came back with a large roll of cash.

"I don't know how much you think a show costs in this century..." she began.

"Figured you'd want to grab some dinner and maybe do some shopping while you're out. Plus there's that non-belated card you've got to pick up." He grinned at her, all goofy ears and dancing eyes.

She grinned back, then paused. "You sure you don't wanna come with?"

"Nah, you girls go enjoy your Potter while I putter."

"Okay. But no having any adventures without me, yeah?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Money in her pocket and a pack of dirty laundry on her back, she was off.

And for awhile the Doctor did putter, but if didn't take long for him to get the "itch" - not for the adventure he'd been banned from until her return, but for her return itself. He'd grown rather unaccustomed to being without her. It also didn't take long for him to think of a way to fill some time. And since he didn't plan for it to be very adventurous, he thought she wouldn't mind if he just popped forward a few years and then came right back.

He set his return to night, not wanting to have to wait. They should have been back from the movies by then. The Doctor locked the TARDIS and whistled as he walked through the dark alley, then sang. It was a good day. A good night. And Rose would love what he'd done when she found out.

He was still singing as he knocked on the door. "Happy birthday, lovely Jackie!" he said with a little bow, producing a grand bouquet from behind his back with a flourish.

He wasn't sure exactly what kind of response he had expected; he knew full well that at least a part of Jackie hated him for taking her daughter from her. But her frown and her venom were definitely undampened by his tone and his gift. And the stinging slap was a bit of a shock.

"Bit late on that one, don't you think?"

His eyes narrowed as he brought a hand to his face. "Beg pardon?"

"Best be saving those flowers for Rose. Though I doubt they'll do you much good."

He was lost. He stepped through the door when she reluctantly moved aside to let him pass. "She's in her room. I've half a mind to tell you to turn around and never come back, but the way she's carrying on..."

He followed her through the apartment and let her push open the door. Rose was laying on her bed, facing away from him. And she was sobbing nearly uncontrollably.

"Good heavens!" the Doctor exclaimed. "What's the trouble?"

Rose didn't respond. She hadn't heard him over the music blasting in her headphones. For awhile it had distracted her, but then a song that reminded her of him had come on, and she was back to this again.

"Been like this on and off for the full three weeks. I hope you're quite pleased with yourself."

"Three weeks? Oh, bloody hell." He dropped the flowers on the bed and sat down beside them, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder, sliding it down to her back.

"I'm fine, mum," she snuffed, completely unconvincing. "Really. Just go to bed. Sorry I woke you."

He tugged out one earphone, gently. "Rose..."

The room lit only by the light coming from the hall, the worst of it was hidden from him. But as she bolted upright and whipped around to face him, he could still make out the tear stains, the puffy eyes. And the anger. He should have been ready for this slap, but even if he had been, he would have let her land it. He did deserve it, after all.

He barely had time to register the sting before she freed herself from the covers and threw herself at him. He held her close, settled her on his lap, whispered "I'm so sorry" over and over.

It didn't take long for the tears to stop. Despite her mother's continuous re-hydration efforts, Rose had few tears left. "You went away," she said quietly, pitifully. "I tried to tell myself you were just late, but...I thought something must have happened. Or... I thought maybe you'd left me behind."

The Doctor was rather dumbstruck. It was reasonable to assume he'd gotten himself into some trouble, since that was tendancy. It hadn't occurred to him she'd ever think he'd just abandon her. His reply was a little rawer, a little fiercer, than he intended. But it was real. "Rose Tyler, I will never leave you behind." He paused. "I just -"

"No, wait." She grabbed a new tissue and swiped at her nose, her eyes. Like a child. "Just wait."

"What?"

A deep, steadying breath. A loud exhale. "Say it again."

"What?"

"Just - " A frustrated noise. "Just, say it again."

"I will never leave you behind?"

Her gaze dropped as she realized how needy she must seem. But the Doctor didn't begrudge her in the least. He ducked his head to meet her eye.

"Hey. I promise I will never leave you behind." This invoked a smile. "But as I've proven a few times now, I may occasionally be a little late."

Jackie, still in the doorway, cleared her throat. "I'll, ah - I'll make us some tea."

"That would be fantastic, Jackie. Thank you," the Doctor said, not turning, not caring.

Rose barely heard her. It didn't matter. The Doctor was back. He hadn't died. He hadn't left her. She shifted to her knees, wrapped her arms around him properly, pressed her cheek to his. "Those flowers for me?" she asked rather glibly, and she could feel her spirit returning.

"They were meant for your mum. I WAS hoping to win some points with them."

"Yeah. Didn't work out for you, I imagine."

There she was. He grinned again, excited now for what he'd done. "I did get you a gift, though. It's back on the TARDIS. That's actually the reason I popped out; it wasn't something I could pick up here."

"Really?" She sat back down, extricated herself from him, knowing she must look a fright but refusing to care, trusting the darkness. "And it took you three weeks?"

"Well, no. It took me about three hours, if you count the wrapping and the stop at the flower shop and the bit of dawdling built in. But I intended to be back in time to meet you for chips after the movie. How was it, by the way?"

"Brilliant," she said offhandedly. "So, what? You got attacked by the Slitheen and held captive and only just now broke away?"

"Why, that's exactly right. So I'm forgiven?"

She rolled her eyes. "You would be if you weren't a bloody Time Lord travelling in a TIME MACHINE."

"I'm afraid it all boils down to technical difficulties," he admitted, hoping his sincerity offset the ridiculousness of the mistake. "I set the return for the night I dropped you off. The TARDIS apparently had other ideas. As you well know, she tends to do that."

"You should have ran out and got a paper," she said calmly, helpfully.

"We'll consider that policy from now on." They chuckled, equally relieved but for very different reasons.

Jackie knocked softly, though had been hanging round long enough to hear his explanation. "Tea's on." She reached for the light, but Rose asked her to stop.

"How about I get cleaned up before anyone need behold my beauty 'neath the harsh fluorescents," she jested in her best old English. Oh, yes. Her spirit was definitely returning. "Let me grab a shower and I'll be right out to join you." With that, she fled the room.

The Doctor's departure was much slower and more reluctant. He didn't begrudge Rose the chance to put herself to rights, but to be left alone with her angry mother over tea was more troubling to him in that moment than the prospect of a Dalek army invasion.

"I suppose all's forgiven then," Jackie began as soon as he came into view, gesturing to the tea pot and handing him a mug.

"I suppose," he answered neutrally, knowing better than to offer excuse.

She turned her back on him, picking up the phone. "Ordering my daughter some chips. I suppose you'll want some."

"I suppose," he said again, pouring, not liking the way she stressed "my daughter".

She'd barely hung up when she took aim with both barrels. "You near broke her heart, you get that, yeah? And she may buy into your little speeches, but she's still a little girl and her heart hasn't been broke enough yet to know that a man's promise of "never" and "forever" don't mean a bloody thing."

"Jackie - "

"Don't you dare "Jackie" me, you! She's still a child and you're a grown man with no business making her promises." She ignored the cup he'd prepared for her and pressed past him, the "follow me" clear enough. He abandoned his tea and trailed behind as she strode to Rose's room and began removing the signs of the girl's anguish - collecting used tissues, filling the laundry basket with discarded clothes from the floor, stripping the bed and making him help put the new sheets in place. All the while, her tirade continued. She went on and on about how he had no business making promises, no business putting her in danger, no business ever asking her to follow him. Finally let him have it about the time he'd returned Rose a year late, poured out all her anger and anguish she'd felt when she thought Rose was missing or worse, livid that he would then put Rose though the very same. He was given no opportunity to defend, and he wouldn't have taken one anyway. Best to let her get it out. And in many ways he owed it to her.

Eventually, she ran out of breath, out of words, out of steam. "Where's my tea?" she inquired absently.

"I'll fix you a fresh cup." And he did, as she sat heavily in a living room chair. The task done, he handed her the mug and sat across from her, sensing that it was now his turn. "Jackie, I'm sorry." He surprised himself by saying it, and even more by meaning it. "I don't know what else I can say. I'm just... so, so sorry."

She looked up with a heavy sigh. "I believe you. And I believe you care for her. And if I didn't know that she cared for you, after seeing her these last weeks I could never doubt it." A sip, a beat. "And I know there's nothing I can do. She's a little girl, but she's not. She knows her mind, and she won't let me change it." The fury had left. Now came the hint of tears. "So what's a mother to do, eh Doctor? When her only daughter is traipsing around all time and space with an alien in a tiny wooden box?"

"It's bigger on the inside," he supplied evenly.

"Yes, 'tis." Another sigh. "So what am I to do?" They sat in silence for a long moment as both reflected on the unanswerable question, until the doorbell interrupted. "That'll be the chips."

"Let me." He was already on his feet, fishing money out of his pocket, left over from his shopping excursion. He paid the delivery boy and added a hefty tip, then brought the greasy paper bag into the kitchen and divided up the spoils into three. She met him there and dug in the fridge for the ketchup, took it and a plate to the table. He joined her.

Rose was walking through the living room in a towel and popped her head in, drawn by the smell. "Oh, did you order chips? That's brilliant! Just give me a sec."

"Well, that ought to get her here quick enough. Otherwise she'd have been another hour getting all dolled up for you."

"Nah," he denied, mouth full. "I think we're beyond that."

"Maybe." She was picking at her food. "So you'll be taking off tonight, I guess." She avoid his eyes, kept her tone light, and he heard the defeat there.

"There's no rush. I'm in no hurry." A small lie.

"Well, I expect Rose will be anxious to get back on the road, so to speak."

"Yes, I expect she will. But we'll chat about it after a good night's sleep." He reached across the table and touched her arm briefly. "We can all chat about it. And we'll chat about plans for our next visit, too."

She recognized what he offered for what it was: the consolation prize. But now that she'd expressed all her anger, she was resigned to accept it in good faith.

Rose returned then, wearing a worn bathrobe and her wet hair clipped high on her head. And while her mother could still see the evidence of her three weeks of worry, she could also see that life had returned. She was light, alert, and - bless her - happy. She lit into her chips like she hadn't eaten in days (and for all intents and purposes, she really hadn't).

"So what have you two been going on about?"

"Not a thing, my love," her mother answered with a sad smile, and pushed the remainder of her chips onto Rose's plate. "That's it for me. I'll leave you to it." She kissed the top of Rose's head, squeezed the Doctor's arm before bringing her plate to the sink. "I'll put out some things for you, Doctor, if you want to make up the couch."

"That's not necessary, Jackie, but thanks." He smiled at her, warmly, trying to communicate much more. "I'll probably make my way to the TARDIS for the night."

"You'll do no such thing!" Rose exclaimed. "I'm not letting you out of my sight!" She grinned brightly. "I'll get him sorted, mum. Not to worry."

"I've no doubt of that. Good night to you both."

"So what did you really talk about?" Rose asked, leaning in and lowering her voice. "Did she give it to you?"

"No," he lied. "But we may have reached a bit of an understanding. Or, I should say, she kind of reached it on her own."

She looked at him curiously, trying to interpret, but chose to say nothing. She was just happy he was there.

They made quick work of the food, and then she took him by the hand and led him back to her room. "Now, if I let you go to the TARDIS to grab a bag, you won't get it in your head to pop out to the 29th Century for a pack of smokes or the like, now, will you?" She was at the mirror trying to deal with her hair, and her reflection smiled at him.

"Seriously, Rose, you know I don't sleep much. And the prospect of a night NOT sleeping on your couch is not that appealing."

"Well, you'll just have to suffer through it," she declared easily, with no hint of humour now. "I meant what I said. Consider yourself on a short leash for the time being." She gestured for him to turn so she could dress, and he did so. "This is not a negotiation, so you may as well just surrender."

He was rather taken aback by her forcefulness, but he preferred it over the anger he deserved. He couldn't let the opportunity to tease a bit escape him, however. "Fine, fine, you win. But no funny business, hear? And no talking my ear off all night, either, regaling me of all your adventures during my absence."

She made a noise. "Right. Well, that would be a rather short regaling, so you needn't worry about that. And I decided in the shower I'm still too angry at you for any business of the "funny" variety to even be considered." She touched his shoulder to indicate it was safe for him to turn.

She was met with a wry grin. "So you were thinking about funny business in the shower, were you?"

She didn't bite. "Is my gift small enough to carry?" At this nod, she ordered, "Go get it, then. Back in 10 minutes or I sound the alarm." She pointed to the door with authority.

With a jaunty salute, he did as she asked, excited for the big reveal.

"You, sir, are late," she accused when he returned, but the sight of the brightly wrapped package distracted her, as he knew it would. She was already in bed, under the covers, lights off except the one on her bedside table.

He crossed the room to hand her the gift, watched her rip into the paper with delight - delight over the gift, but more delight that he was there. It was strange to have been missed so fiercely when for him time hadn't really passed. Strange, yes, but it felt good.

"Oh, you didn't!"

"Ah, but I did!" He motioned that she should move over, and having kicked off his shoes and removed his leather jacket he sat next to her atop the covers, leaning back against the headboard. "Are you pleased, then?"

"Well, I wouldn't say it was worth what you put me through," she said pointedly. "But that aside, I'd say you did very well, Doctor. Considering this last one hasn't even been published yet!"

He grinned and selected the first book from the set, gestured that she should pile the rest on the table beside her. "And I thought, since you were so insistent of their merit, that perhaps we might read them together."

This apparently was the best possible thing he could have suggested, as from the corner of his eye he saw her get misty about it. But when she answered, she answered as she always did, a mixture of fun and pure affection.

"I do think I'd rather enjoy that, Doctor. But no doing the voices, yeah? You could probably pull off Potter, but your Hermoine would be lacking."

"I think I could manage a fair Voldemort," he suggested, but was cut off with an elbow to the leg.

""He who must not be named"!" she insisted. "Let's be reasonable!"

"When have you known me to be unreasonable?" he questioned as he arranged an offered pillow behind his back so he could relax more comfortably, and opened the book.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. You've forbidden me to talk your ear off all night."

"Oi, you cheeky thing." And, after placing a hand atop her head and ruffling her hair affectionately, he began to read, reading until she had fallen asleep, warm and settled. He had thought about sneaking out, but felt he owed her to stay. And long after he had turned out the light, he found himself once again considering what all this meant, what he had done to this child, this WOMAN, to this family. What could be done to stop it, if he was so inclined.

But she would not be dissuaded, he knew. Neither he nor Jackie nor likely any being in the Universe, now or ever, could have talked her out of making her way back to the TARDIS in the morning, back to their life of adventure. Back to their life together. And for as much as he didn't like to think about it, one wrong move from either of them could make each adventure her last. Jackie had once cornered him, asked him straight out if Rose was safe, if he could keep her safe. And he hadn't answered, for good reason. They'd been on the brink so many times already. Though Rose was careful to sanitize her reports to her mother of what they'd been up to, she couldn't fully disguise the danger without not reporting at all. No wonder that poor woman was beside herself with worry, laying into him like he was the big bad wolf preying on her only child.

What he refused to reflect on was how devastated Rose had been when she thought he'd gone. He could have chalked it up to her mourning the adventures, being forced to return to the normalcy of her life here. And maybe he would have. Had he not refused to reflect.

What he knew, plainly and clearly, was that he wanted her with him. And that even if his new-found compassion for Jackie's pain or his own well-buried pangs of worry that some day he may not be able to protect her were enough to cut her loose, he knew the only way to do so was drop her off and disappear, this time for real.

But he had promised to never leave her behind. And despite Jackie's convictions about men and "never" and "forever", this was one promise he fully intended to keep.