The Doctor fell face first into the snow.

It was disgustingly wet. Bits of ice clung to his face, unwilling to let go. What an absolutely freezing night it was here!

His teeth were chattering with such force that he could feel them smash into each other. He was shaking so violently that he could only imagine it looked like something taken straight out of a cartoon.

The snow in their world had never been this thick. Not in London, at any rate. Had Rose gotten used to the thick snow here yet?

The Doctor yanked his foot out of the snow, and pulled his trench coat as close to him as possible. If only he had known what the winter here was like, he would have worn something far more suitable for the occasion.

Surrounding him was a white picket fence, complete with the branches of bushes and trees. All the leaves had fallen off, since it was the middle of winter, but the garden was still a beautiful sight.

And then he saw the house. It was absolutely breathtaking! Something that was at least three stories tall, with a massive balcony towering over him and a design that looked like it had walked out of the Victorian Era.

It looked like in the end, Rose did get the life she deserved.

Surrounding the Tyler's house were other houses, with equally fancy designs and flashy cars that screamed "RICH". But none of their Christmas decorations could compare to the Tylers.

A wreath hung over the door, a neat little ribbon tied to it. Red and green lined the walls, with bells and mistletoe and whatever else you could think of.

Decorative long lines of lights hung from the roof, with every color there was. It brought a certain glow to the house, as if it itself was alive.

As pretty and stunning the view from the garden was, it was ten times better from the front of the house.

And the whole world was alright for a few minutes.

The smell of gingerbread men and popcorn wafted through the walls of the house, and out into the unforgiving snows where the Doctor stood.

He took in deep breaths, deep as he could, in an effort to try to remember the smell. It smelled like home.

The window next to the door, dark brown like chocolate, was fogged up, the way it always was in the winter. A small potted plant stood on the window ledge, with small blankets of snow covering it. Through the blurred glass he could see the whole Tyler family, huddled up next to each other on a massive green couch.

Distorted sounds blasted through the walls of the house. Five pairs of eyes glued to the TV, hooked by whatever was being shown. He tilted his head to the right, trying to get a better view of the screen.

Wait... was that the Lion King?

Not important right now, he reminded himself.

Jackie, Mickey, Pete, his clone... They all faded away when he saw who was at the end of the couch.

Rose Tyler.

Dressed in a red jumper and a pair of black pants. A bowl of popcorn was in her lap, a pillow tucked underneath her arm.

The hands of his clone were wrapped around her waist as her head rested on his chest. She was laughing at something he had said, with the kind of smile usually reserved for him.

It was like a thousand knives in his back.

The freezing cold couldn't melt everything he was feeling in that moment. It was an uncomfortable lump in his throat, and the pause of his breath, and the stinging in his eyes. It was the feeling of the world weighing down on him and the pain of everything he had ever known.

His clone had the goofiest look on his face, probably the exact same thing he had every time he was with Rose.

And it hurt so, so much. Oh god, it was a sight that hurt so much more than anything else he was feeling.

They could have easily passed for a normal couple. Doing normal, adorable things.

He couldn't show up in her life all over again. It would mess everything up.

His breath frosted the glass window. He staggered away from the wall of the house, and fished the dimension cannon out of his pocket.

He should go. He should really, really go. He didn't belong here, in the domestic life. The Doctor wrinkled his nose at the word. He belonged in the TARDIS, going on dangerous adventures and saving the world.

The yellow button of the dimension cannon gleamed off the light inside the house. It remained unmoving in the palm of his hand, daring him to do it.

He pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again.

Still nothing.

What was going on? He tried it again and again and again. And that was when he remembered. The thirty minute recharge.

He hit himself on the head.

Stupid, stupid Doctor!

In his haste to finish the device, he had foolishly left the thirty minute cool down time it required before it could work again.

Now he was stuck here for another half an hour. Forced to sit outside Rose's home, in the freezing cold with only the howling winds to keep him company.

Uncomfortable, wet snow could still be felt through the layers of his clothes. Snowflakes, tiny shards of winter they were, flew into every nook and cranny. It was in his coat, in his eyes, in his mouth, in his hair...

So... cold...

So, so... cold...

His head had become a torture chamber, fit for a place in hell. Hot embers in his stomach, steel rods poking his brain, but ice covered his skin.

So this was where he ended up. Waiting outside some girl's house, like some lovestruck teenager. Miseries piled as high as the snow.

Pathetic, really. Last of the time lords. Survivor of the Time War. Daleks feared him, monsters feared him, he was the Defender Of The Earth.

Crouched underneath a window, dying.

What a joke.

The sky was a dark shade of midnight blue. Blurs of white trickled down the street, becoming lost among the rest of the snow.

It was a beautiful image, really. Like something ripped straight out of a painting.

He couldn't even feel his face anymore. His skin was a pale blue and it was getting too cold to think.

There was almost a sort of warmth in the snow. Sort of comfort, even.

How long had it been?

Drowsiness was threatening to overtake him. The lullaby of sleep drawing him nearer with every breath he took.

This must be hypothermia, the Doctor thought to himself.

It wasn't so bad.

"Aaaaaaagh!"

The Doctor was awoken by a shrill scream.

In front of him stood Jackie, with a windbreaker and fur boots on. Her hands over her mouth, her eyes containing a sort of disbelief that refused to accept what she was seeing.

How long had he been asleep? The night sky seemed a tad darker, and the lights from inside the house had been dimmed. A few minutes? A half an hour? It couldn't have been more than an hour, could it?

"What the hell are you doin' here?"

The shocked expression on her face had melted away, into one of pure rage. Her eyebrows furrowed in a way that alerted him to the possibility of another slap.

The Doctor was finding it hard to think straight. He was burning up, and even the slightest movement made him feel lime collapsing.

"I—"

The Doctor hesitated.

What did it matter anyway? He could just pop back to his own universe and regenerate, he didn't need to explain anything to Jackie.

"I came to... see Rose."

The Doctor forced himself to choke out those words.

"One last time."

It was only then that Jackie seemed to take in his horrible appearance.

A silent understanding passed between them, and small tears were trickling down the side of her face.

The Doctor winced. He could really do with some painkillers right now. He looked at his hands. Tiny tendrils of golden light was slowly emerging from his skin, engulfing it in its gorgeous glow.

"But—but y-you'll just regenerate, won't you? You'll do that thing-where you—where you change your face and-and-and everything'll be alright—"

The Doctor had stopped listening. The glow was spreading through his skin, the very end of his life taking physical form, and he stared at it with a strange kind of fascination and fear and sadness.

It was time to go.

He took a last, good long look at everything. Trying his best to remember it all, to be able to visit the night again in his mind—like a picture frame. The way the stars in the sky blinked and shone. The lights from the lampposts shining bright, with snow dripping down the sides. The refreshing cold air of winter that blew past his face, bringing tiny flecks of snow into the world.

And he knew exactly what to do.

With trembling knees, he slowly pulled himself up, the window ledge serving as his only support.

The light from the house was warm and inviting, basking everything inside with a radiant glow. He would have loved nothing more then to join in on it. The whole family was asleep on the couch, with an empty spot where Jackie must have been at.

But he was more interested in who was sleeping at the side of the couch.

Rose's golden hair was a mess, strands of it in her mouth and covering her face. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was cuddled up next to his replacement, who still had that stupid grin on his face and an ugly green jumper on.

At least, he thought to himself, I'll be able to pull off green in my next regeneration.

The tinge of jealousy in his chest didn't feel so much like jealousy anymore. It was closer to some strange combination of wistfulness and envy. Her eyes were closed, with a small smile gracing her lips as she slept. It looked nice.

"Jackie, I should go."

The Doctor mustered a smile.

"But..." he paused, fumbling for something. He reached into his coat pocket and after a few seconds of digging, he pulled out a key.

The TARDIS key.

Jackie took it from him with some reluctance. She inspected it for a moment, eyes filled with a sadness for the occasion. She knew what it was.

"Just give this to her, alright? Promise me, Jackie."

His voice cracked. The warm glow had almost completely enveloped him now, and all he had left was a few seconds.

The dimension cannon seemed to glow with him, the tiny device that started everything.

It was time to leave.

He took one last look at his surroundings, and braced himself. A moment of vertigo passed, he found himself surrounded by shades of dark blue and the familiar hum of the TARDIS.

Jackie closed the door silently, not wanting to wake up the family. She headed straight for the kitchen, yanking open the fridge door and searching for the right thing for tonight.

Just give this to her, alright? Promise me, Jackie.

God, she needed a drink.

Her shaky hands poured out a glass of vodka, a little going over the edge and onto the kitchen counter.

That was the last time she went out to empty the trash at night.

The key rested heavily in the pocket of her windbreaker. It moved whenever she did, and slowed her every action, weighing her down like a ton of bricks.

Jackie felt chills just touching it. She brought it out of her pocket, to closer examine.

It looked just like an ordinary key. A little smaller than most, perhaps, but not particularly strange or unusual.

Why did he have to give it to her?

Now she was left to make an impossible decision.

Promise me, Jackie.

Rose couldn't see this. It would bring back all the pain, all the memories of everything she had lost.

No.

She was already adjusting to life here, with the clone of The Doctor, and the rest of the family. If Rose knew of the key, she might do something stupid, like try rushing back to his world.

All the banging on her door, begging her to come out. Hearing the sniffles and the sobs in the middle of the night. She refused to eat anything, refused to do anything except to hide in her room and cry all day.

Her precious baby girl.

On days where she spoke, she spoke little and in a barely audible voice. It was a dagger to the heart every time she had to hear her Rose speaking like that.

All over that stupid Doctor.

It was his bloody fault. Sure, he didn't want to leave her either, and she knew he really did care for her. But if he just never came along and split the family apart...

She couldn't let Rose go through that again.

Promise me, Jackie.

But she had a right to know, didn't she?

Jackie downed the rest of the glass. Maybe she was just being selfish. Maybe Rose wouldn't overreact and do something stupid again.

Rose had a good life here, she was happy, she was growing close to the Doctor's clone. (Or, as she was starting to think of him, the Doctor).

Certainly a better Doctor than the real one anyway.

The silver key stayed still in the palm of her hand.

Should she do it? Should she not?

And she thought it over.

For how long, she couldn't say. It could have been minutes or hours, but she sat there and thought about it for a good, long time.

And then she reached her answer.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as she put the key into the sink.

Promise me, Jackie.

The image of him, a minute away from death, all pale and shivery. His big brown pleading eyes, begging her to do the one last thing.

Promise me, Jackie.

It was almost enough to make Jackie stop.

But she couldn't.

Her daughter was more important.

"I'm sorry."

Tears begin to slide down her cheeks.

Promise me, Jackie.

She turned on the tap in an agonizing sob, and watched as the running water sucked the key down into the bottomless pit of the drain.

But the loud noise still couldn't drown out the words she heard in her head.

Promise me, Jackie.