Disclaimer: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. I no own, so you no sue. If I did own 'Doctor Who', there would have been more episodes with Nine. Many More. Just think of it, Nine and Donna traveling together!

A/N: This is my first time writing a fanfic, so please be gentle. This is a story that has been tumbling around my head for months, ever since I learned why Chris left the show after only a single season.

Summary:

Something has happened to Rose Tyler in Pete's World. She can't remember what it was, but something happened. Now she is back in 2005 on the morning after she first met her Doctor. Somehow she can remember everything that happened to her before, and some gifts have come with her. However, she is incomplete somehow. None of that matters, though. She will soon realize, nothing is as she remembers it. And she will be given a chance to right a few wrongs, and save a few as she forges ahead in this new timeline. Maybe she can even save her Doctor while she is at it. [NinexRose]

Once More With Feeling

Chapter One: Around, and around we go…

The sound of the alarm clock pulled the sleepy occupant of the pink and purple bed. Turning over, a slim but pale hand snapped out, slapping the alarm clock as it flashed in red number "7:30 am". Rolling onto her back, the occupant looked at the ceiling of the pink painted room, disoriented and dazed from sleep. But the voice that called from the other room, snapped her out of her trance and into a sitting position, eyes wide and terrified.

"No point in getting up, darlin'," she heard her Mum call from the living room of the flat they shared. "You got no job to go." There was a small pause before Jackie Tyler added, "Although, if you want to make me breakfast, I won't complain."

It was not often in recent years that Rose Tyler was terrified. Not scared or frightened. She did not get scared or frightened, at least not anymore. There was nearly nothing in the universe left that could do that. But terrified, oh she could feel that on occasion, and when she felt it, it was for all the right reasons. Looking around the room now, her mind taking stock of her surroundings, trying to remember the last time she even saw this little room. This was such a far cry from the room she had in her Dad's mansion or even the flat she later bought herself after passing her Torchwood Field Commander test as a reward. This was her room back at the Estates. The piles of clothes and other things throw haphazardly around the room puzzled her. Her mind was running a mile a minute. Okay, one window, with pink curtains let in the early morning light. Her desk was covered like a vanity with her make-up, hair supplies, and assorted bottles of perfumes or scented sprays she had collected. Her dresser stood in the corner, piled high with clean clothes and a worn looking teddy bear with a top hat. That made her smile a little. She had actually missed that damn bear, it had been even longer since she had actually been able to see the bear, let alone touch him.

Pushing the covers off her, she ran a hand through her tangled bed head, trying to remember what happened. Did she even know what happened? There had been a fight she remembered that, her eyes narrowed. It had been night, they were running. What was it they were running from? Who were they again? With a slight growl, she pushed herself from under the borderline obnoxiously pink and purple duvet and walked to her dresser. Picking Mr. Tedopolous up, she tried to think. She had been with John and the rest of her team from Torchwood. A mission, she recalled, closing her eyes. A mission that had turned pear shaped before it even began. Looking at herself in the mirror across the room above her desk, she blinked a few times. What in the name of Bad Wolf had happened!? She looked so… young! Setting Mr. Tedopolous down, Rose turned again and did was any normal, self-respecting, time traveling Torchwood Commander would do. She picked out some clean clothes and stumbled on shaky legs to the small bathroom that was across the hall.

Closing the door, Rose took into account her appearance and where she was. There had to be an explanation for this, and for her mum, whom she heard moving around her room. Her mum, who had been dead for almost twenty years now, was here. Shaking her head, Rose moved into the shower and let the warm water wash over her, trying to gather her thoughts. John, she recalled, had looked horrified as they ran. It was dark, a forest. Northern England. That's right. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she tried to force the memories to come to her. She knew she was not so old that memories should be so fuzzy now. That's right, they were responding to a call, Torchwood that is, they had gotten about some off activity that was hard to explain and had to be seen to believe. They went out there… then what happened? After the running, the yelling, the flash of lights and it was so loud, like a howling of a storm. Sighing, Rose laid her forehead against the cool tiles, trying to calm herself down. Everything was so confusing at the moment. It was like everything else was a dream, the Doctor, the TARDIS, Torchwood, Jack, Jake, her parents' death, Tony… it was all like a long forgotten dream. Or was this the dream, she wondered as she washed her hair out. Clearly she needed more information she decided as she turned off the water and stepped out the shower.

A banging on the wall, followed by her mum yelling out "You better have left me some hot water!" made Rose smile. Yup, that was Jackie Tyler alright. Drying herself off, Rose quickly brushed her teeth and toweled off her hair. She noticed that her roots had darkened and chuckled to herself, trying to remember the last time she had to dye her hair. Shaking her head again, this day was just one terrifying mystery after another. First, her mum is alive, second, she was back on the estate and looked like she was nineteen again, and… she could not effing remember what happened clearly that could have made this happen. She knew for certain it had to do with the pear-flavored mission, but what was beyond her. Dressing quickly, she barely noted the outfit she wiggled into. The light grey open shoulder top and the fade jeans should have been a hint to her future. Right now, it was clean clothes and she was hungry. Food first, internal timeline second, she decided. Stepping out into the short hall of No. 143 of the Enoch Tower at the Estate, Rose moved with a purpose to the cramped and cluttered kitchen. Moving as if on autopilot, she made herself and her mum breakfast and tea, Rose looked at the window of the little kitchen. While she was mildly prepared for it, she paled at the sight of a zeppelin less London sky line. She was… home? No. No, she was not back, Rose refused to believe, after nearly twenty five years of trying and failing, that she had managed to make it home. But then, stranger things had happened to her. Frowning, she took her tea and breakfast into the living room to sit at the little dining table.

Jackie came into the room, wearing her pink house coat, turning on the telly for the noise really, before walking back out to get her own shower. She muttered something about shock and trauma but Rose did not hear her. Her eyes were glued to the man on the screen, reporting live from the scene. The fire had been put out at the remains of Hendrik's, but a source that had caused the explosion was still yet to be located. However, investigators had found a body in the wreckage. She already knew who it was, she never forgot that night, so long ago for her. After a moment, she heard her mother wittering on about something. Rose turned her attention back towards her mum, who by now had finished her shower and reentered the small living room. Jackie Tyler was in top form this morning, grumbling about this, mumbling about that. She was saying something and Rose decided it might be a good idea to pay attention. Quickly, she remembered how her mum used to be before everything began. To say she was a bitch, well that was understatement.

"The job was giving you airs and graces," Jackie Tyler huffed, sniffing disdainfully at the report on the screen. "Face it, sweetheart, you're many things, but you're not West End."

Getting up from the table, Jackie moved into the cramped kitchen to refill her morning tea, still talking about Rose was trying to gather her thoughts to create a rational argument or comment before this became a fight. She frankly didn't remember her mother being so catty when she was younger. This was bordering on cruel.

"Now Martin & Heath said they needed someone," she told her pale daughter. It was like Rose was still in some shock after the night before. Well, she needed her head out of the clouds and back in the Estates, where it belongs. "That right up your street!"

Rose frowned a little as she stared at the cold cup of tea in her hands. Wasn't it Fitches before? "D'you mean the butcher's?" she asks, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice and eyes.

"What's wrong with that?" Oh dear, there was that defensive tone Jackie tended to use when Rose was being difficult. After all, Mother knows best, and all that.

"They're not even proper," Rose responded, nearly as defensive, as if she could not even believe this was suggested to her. She was so much more than that. "They sell scrag ends."

"There you go," crowed Jackie, an air of victory around her, just the opening she was looking for. Rose was thinking herself something special again, little her dreams blind her to the world's truth. "Airs and graces! And don't tell me you're too grand to apply for compensation. They owe you, Henrik's, you've had genuine shock and trauma. It's easy to apply, I've seen the form, it's three pages long…"

Rose had turned out Jackie by now. The conversation was not going to go anywhere. Rose's mind whirled with what she now knew to be truth:

Truth one: She had somehow come back to the Powell Estates in 2005 the day after the Doctor blew up her job.

Truth two: She somehow had all her memories of the life she had up to whatever happened over in Pete's World that resulted in her being placed back here. Now if only she could remember properly what happened before she woke up here, that might explain a few things.

Truth three: She was going to see her Doctor again!

Half listening to her mum, Rose mumbled her reply, still thinking of her leather wrapped Doctor, and trying to remember how the events of the day went, "Well, look, I suppose, yeah, but give it a day or two," Rose murmured, not really thinking about the compensation. "They're still searching the wreckage. I don't want to look ghoulish…"

"Oh! I'm ghoulish, am I?" Jackie huffed, becoming offended so easily. "That's a lovely thing to say to your own mother!" With a huff, she snatched her mug of tea and sailed out the room, grumbling about ungrateful daughters and free loaders.

Rose heaved a deep sigh, she did remember her mother being that bad when all this began, but this was something else. Running her fingers through her thick hair, Rose considered the poor dye job idly. Okay, Rose thought to herself. First things first, the Doctor, any minute he would be here and then the trouble would start. The hand would… the hand! Rose jumped up and scanned the room. That stupid hand was already here, it had to be. Her only thought at this point was not how the situation with the Doctor had begun, but the murderous thing in her mum's flat. A scratching sound drew Rose's attention to the side of the room where a stack of her mum's magazines were resting. It was coming from behind the chair there in fact. Listening carefully, Rose moved forward as the scratching got louder. If she didn't know any better, she would swear it was one of the many strays on the Estates. As she got closer, praying to the Universe, that her body would move as she wanted it, despite her nineteen year old body not having the muscle memory her old body did, she listened as the scratching turning into a drumming then to a thumping as if it was trying to draw her in, hitting against the floor furiously.

Slowly her hand reached for the chair that hid the source of the sound.

Another thumping behind her in the hallway had her freezing. The cat flap!

Turning on instinct and excitement, she moved swiftly towards the front door. She saw the two little screws that locked the flap in place on the ground. Canting her head to the side, curiously, she knelt down.

Please, she begged silently, please be him!

She jumped a little when the flap moved again, as if someone was tapping on it from the outside. Leaning down, she pushed her thick hair to the side and put her fact even with the opening. Unlike before, she didn't hesitate to push the flap up and found herself staring into beautiful blue eyes. And they were staring right back into her own golden brown. Then he smiled.

It was him. It was the Doctor.

He smiled that big, silly grin of his.

"Hello!"

The morning had come and gone, finding the Doctor following the signal he had recently picked up. After the fiasco at the department store last night, he was hoping that the human girl from there had tossed the arm away as soon as she had gotten outside.

No. Such. Luck.

He could not help the grumbling this time. It seemed this incarnation was rather fond of colorful language and grumping around, which ultimately was fine with him. Ever since the night before, he had been having trouble concentrating as it was. When he had left the building finally, after blowing up the nest, he never expected to see the girl, Rose, standing across the street. Dirt smudged her face, her make up smeared, looking pale and yet tall as she watched the building burn. There was fear about her, and yet, there was something else. She almost seemed to glow in the light of the flames. In her right hand, she was clutching the plastic arm tightly.

She was beautiful.

And she didn't put up with his attempts to redirect her attention either, he thought with a smile. Shaking his head violently, the Doctor forced himself to put her out of his thoughts. There was simply no way he would see her again. She was like all the other people that passed through his existence, just a ghost that he will forget, he hopes, in a few days. Thinking about it, she almost seemed to be in a fog last night when he stepped outside. She just had been standing there, as pieces of the building had fallen around her and glass had showered down on the street. Frowning again, he remembers taking the first step towards her, instinctively moving to protect the golden girl. Someone had beaten him to it. A man with dark hair and a terrified look on his handsome face had dashed to her and pulled her away from the falling debris. The other male's entire body language screamed of a man trying to protect something he cared about. Figures, the Doctor thinks, scowling darkly at the ground in front of him. She has a pretty boy. Not like he cared, he reminded himself. He was never going to see her again. He didn't want to see her again. He was not in the market for a new companion. He was fine, thank you very much. No use dwelling of never could have beens, he lectured himself, all the while he could feel the TARDIS in the back of his mind humming at him, arguing with him, again, on the subject. No. He would not see her again.

Following the signal as it seem to get stronger and stronger, almost like it was getting agitated, he found himself climbing the concert stairs of possibly the most depressing looking building he has seen in a long, long time. Stopping a moment before a door, he mildly glances at it. Flat number 143, shrugging he gets on his hands and knees. He can hear someone shrieking inside like some kind of harpy. Gah, domestics, he thinks in disgust. Without a care, he taps the cat flap with the blue tip of his screwdriver once, then twice. The flap snapped back at him and beyond he saw first deep, soulful golden eyes gazing at him. Blonde hair gathered on the other side of her head and a smile that seem to light up the area around her.

He found her again.

He could not stop the smile if he tried.

"Hello!" he called out brightly. Just as soon as it left his mouth, she dropped the flap and the door was thrown open and she was standing there before him. The Doctor scrambled to his feet so he was not looking up at her. No that would be bad, totally beneath the Time Lord him. She looked at his face, searching or memorizing, he couldn't tell which. Her eyes, though, her eyes seem to scream something at him. Something he was missing, or almost like he couldn't remember. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a buzzing seemed to sound, a whisper of something. Brushing it off mentally, he threw his thoughts to the TARDIS, asking her to keep it down. It had to be her, right? Right.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his Northern accent rolling off his tongue. She had opened her mouth as if to speak then he beat her to it.

She blinked at him, as if some spell was broken that was on her.

"I live here," was her quip, she looked a little confused at his question. Actually, if he cared more, her look and the buzzing in the back of him mind said "Duh?"

"What'd you go and do that for?" He burst out, looking equally confused. Looking at his sonic, then back at her, then back to the sonic, something was off here.

"Cause I do," she huffed, watching him with a small level of annoyance. Why was she annoyed? He should be the one annoyed. "I'm only here cause someone went and blew up my job."

Glancing at her a moment, he could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile curve the corners of that wide, kissable mouth. Wait, what? He did NOT just think that. No way, not about a human.

Frowning now at the sonic in his hands, trying to ignore her and focus on the issue at hand. "I must've got the wrong signal. I was scanning for plastic. You're not plastic, are you?"

The Doctor stepped forward with the intention of rapping his knuckles against the human girl's forehead when she suddenly stepped back and grabbed his hand. To his surprise, and secret joy, she placed his hand on her forehead, letting him feel the bone plates and flesh there. A sudden thought struck him, the sonic. Without much farther thought, he scanned her as she watched him, those golden eyes so full of a trust he did not understand. Clearing his throat and removing his hand from where she placed, ignoring the temptation to run his fingers over the smooth skin of her cheeks, he grinned again at her that wide manic smile. "Nope, bonehead. Bye then!"

"Oh, no you don't," she snapped, once again her hands snapped out and grabbed him by the jacket and yanked. "You, inside. Now." And before he fully understood he was just manhandled by a human of all things, the humming in his mind seemed to be laughing at him. Cheeky old girl, he thought back fondly back at the TARDIS. The blonde girl pulled him forward, not really looking at him as she slammed the door closed behind him. The Doctor nearly grinned again. She was bossy, she was. Rassilon knew why he thought that was cute. Like a little puppy trying to bully the big dog, adorable really. The golden human pulled him forward about two steps when a second voice interrupted them. Internally, he winced. That was the harpy he heard when he walked up.

"Who are you?" the older blonde woman all but snapped as he was pulled pasted the open door. He felt the human girl, (Rose! He heard snapped in the back of his mind. Her name is Rose) stiffened at the sound of the voice. Did she just sigh? Taking in the appearance of the older woman, the Doctor figured this harpy was likely Rose's mother. Like Rose, she had dark eyes and bleached blonde hair. She was a little taller than his – Rose, taller than Rose. And she was apparently a fan of the color pink, he thought. He glanced around the room, rather fascinated by the human décor, not overly listening to the harpy of a woman, or watching her, or he might have noted a few things before it happened.

"Hello, stranger," the harpy of a woman suddenly seems to purr. The tone made his blue eyes snap over to her, curious.

"Hello!" He replied brightly, albeit mildly clueless.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Rose had stiffened again and almost seemed to be growling, very softly. Surely this human was not growling at her own mum? And since when did ape growl?

"He's from the council, Mum," Rose stated plainly. The lie surprising him almost as much as that faint glow in her eyes that flashed for a second. He's seen that before, where for the life of him, he couldn't remember where. Rassilon he was getting old. "Leave us alone, you get dressed, I'll deal with it."

Oh there was that growl again, hidden easily under the tone she used. Glancing at the golden girl, he flicked his gaze back to her mum who seemed to be eyeing him up. He could almost feel a pang of jealousy and possessiveness that was as alien to him as he was to the planet he stood on. Once again, like the near constant buzzing in his mind, he pushed it aside to study the elder human woman who was studying him. He did note that Rose had moved ahead into the living room and had stopped to watch him.

"She deserves compensation!"

That caught his attention completely. What was it that Rose said he was? Part of the council?

"We're talking millions!" he gleefully replied, running with the story that the golden girl had come up with so quickly to explain his presence here. He was actually, slightly impressed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose attempting to suppress a giggle at his antic.

"I'd happily talk through it. At length," the harpy purred again. Was she trying to be seductive? "Except, here I am. In my dressing gown." When did she get closer? Where that soft buzzing was coming from, a mauve warning light went off and a feral growl accompanied the warning light. "And there's a strange man in my bedroom."

"So?"

"Well," a smile now curled the lips of the harpy as she moved another step closer. The mauve warning lights turned into the sound of the Cloister Bell now, "anything could happen."

"No." It was a firm, burning knock down. The Doctor turned towards Rose and moved towards the living room, missing the look on the harpy ape's face, but catching Rose's smile and following laughter as he walked to her. His heavy boots thudded against the open hardwood floor, letting his gaze move over the room and not pay attention to that golden smile that made him want to grin in return. To his surprise, she didn't start talking like he expected her to. Instead she was watching him again with a guarded look in her eyes, but a smile on her lips, the tip of her tongue sticking out and curling up over a tooth. The Doctor found he needed to look away from that enchanting smile. In over 900 years of space and time, wars and adventures, he had never seen a smile like that one. Moving around her into the living room, the Doctor allowed himself the luxury of indulging in his curious side and started poking around, waiting for the human watching him to start with her litany of questions and rants he just knew from experience was coming. Picking up a copy of 'Heat' magazine, his nose wrinkled at little at the double spread on the celebrity wedding there.

"Won't last," he murmured, tossing it back down. "He's gay and she's an alien."

That got him a giggle, which he glanced back at Rose feeling her eyes still on him. A sense of calm washed over him, contentment really. With a little smile, he picked up a book and flipped through it as she came closer. "Sad ending," he mused before tossing it back down as well. She still had yet to start talking, which was curious in and of itself, really. Last night, she was near hysterics and talked almost more than he did with her questions. This morning, she was quiet, like she was waiting for something. Something for him caught his eye, turning he found himself staring at his own reflection for the first time. Frowning a little, he ducked around, turning his head back and forth, checking out his reflection.

"Not too bad," he grumped, tilting his head to the side again to look at the ears a bit more. "Could've been worse. Nice ears." Again, he grinned a little, flicking his ear lobes with his fingers, playing with the large ears a bit. "I'm never ginger, though, why is that?"

Soft laughter turned his attention to Rose again. She was still watching him, a smile gracing her beautiful face, it was almost a loving smile, full of warmth. Her eyes seem to glimmer with humor at some inside joke only she knew, shaking her head a little, she just grinned at him that glorious tongue in teeth grin. Why could he just see that smile on her face, those golden eyes shimmering just before she got herself into some mischief. That look made him grin, a silly, daft grin at her in return and for a second, he could have sworn, she blushed. With the blush, he felt a sweep of joy like he had never known go through him and warmth of familiarity again. It was like the TARDIS was rejoicing in her, which was crazy by itself. Shaking off the feelings once again, he looked at Rose, now he was waiting for her it seemed and time was frozen around them. He had been here a whole of maybe three minutes, but watching her, waiting for her, it felt like a frozen eternity.

"About last night," she began carefully. To Rose, she was trying to remember how this conversation originally went. Things seemed different now than before. It was a long time ago too, for her anyway. She had been watching him move around this time. This time he didn't play with the cards getting them everywhere or sing. He didn't go through her mail, which he confessed to later was how he learned her full name. When he had started messing around with the ears, she had bit her lip to stop herself from doing anything foolish. Like stepping up behind him and nibbling on those splendid ears as she always wanted to do. It was nice to know that she had not been enhancing her memories of his arse in those jeans. It was still fantastic. Shaking her head, she felt a wave of confusion, hinted with amusement come from the Doctor. She knew it was from him, she would know the feel of his mind anywhere, any time. Oh that was bad, she thought. He couldn't know about that yet. That brought up too many questions she wasn't able or ready to answer. Damn John, she thought fondly. Taking a deep breath, she brought up her own mental shields as she was taught so long ago, and turned her attention to the situation at hand. Rose noted that for a second something flickered over his face when her shields went up, but it was gone as fast as it came. She knew that look all too well, it was the look of him brushing something off, dismissing it, as not important for the time being. With his attention span, she mused, it would be unlikely he would think about it later.

"About last night," she tries again, focusing, frowning at him as if annoyed when she was anything but. "I want to know what is going on. Who were those people last night? I know we have to go to the police, but what do I tell them?"

He seemed to be staring at her as she spoke and Rose narrowed her eyes. "Doctor?"

His head turned slightly, listening intently to something in the room with them. She faintly heard something, like a scratching, but it was too soft for her to identify it. "Doctor! Doctor who, anyway? What's your name?"

Tic-tic-tic.

This time she heard it as his head snapped towards the corner what the chair was. Where she knew what was there.

"Have you got a cat?" He asked her, ignoring her question as he turned towards the chair.

"No, must be a stray," Rose replied, her whole body tensing as he shifted closer, cautiously, towards the sound. "Anyway! Will you listen to me? I need to know what happened to Wilson. And what entitles you to go around blowing up buildings? There are nearly 300 people without jobs now, thanks to you!"

Rose kept her eyes on him, watching his body language on the off chance she still remembered how to read this him. She knew for a fact what happened to Wilson, but if Torchwood taught her anything, it was how to play a part when investigating. Did this count? Now is really not the time for this, she mental berated herself.

"Doesn't sound like a cat," the Doctor murmured. He was listening to her, but a shiver went up his spine. The signal led here, she was here, it was likely in the house. He did not want to scare the little ape any more than she was. Right now, she was agitated. Well, so was he! Between the sounds and the sudden headache that seem to have developed while in this depressingly domestic place, he was starting to form a right foul mood. For some reason, he was tenser than he could remember since the Mo- since the end of the War.

"Do you think it could be a rat?" asked Rose, her voice hitching. That had not occurred to her. And for a second, she thought it might be plausible. "Don't tell my mother. She is like a cartoon character if she sees a rat."

"Let's have a look," chirped the Doctor. If Rose didn't know him better, she would swear he was as tense as her. That tone was one he used when he was going into one of his darker moods and was pretending he was fine. Before Rose could say another word, the Doctor gripped the chair and lifted it up.

No cat. No rat.

Just a plastic arm.

Just the plastic arm from last night.

Rose could have started swearing in an alien tongue, but held herself back. The arm was laying, palm up, fingers slightly curled in like that of a spider's legs after it dies. It made her a little sick, thinking of the similarities between the hand and a spider that crawled in the darkness and night, hunting, killing.

"What's that doing here?" Rose asked, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice. She couldn't stop the shudder up her spine as she watched the Doctor carefully set the chair down before he squatted down before the hand, curiosity and caution radiating off him. "I told Mickey to throw that thing out when he left here last night."

"And it came back," the Doctor muttered grimly, his mind on the girl behind him, on her safety.

"How? Though the cats flap?"

"Yup," the Doctor answered, mildly impressed but more than wary now. Why had it returned here? "It came in on its own."

"Now you are being ridiculous," Rose huffed.

It was at that moment, the plastic arm decided to spring its trap. It turned suddenly in a 180 degree and crawled like a freakish mimic of a spider towards the Doctor with frightening speeds. Before either Rose or the Doctor could react, it was climbing its way up the Doctor's body, all the way to his neck. There it latched on, and began to strangle him.

Unlike before, Rose sprang into action as the gurgling sounds were being squeezed from the Doctor as he tried to fight his attacker off. Throwing herself at the Doctor, she gripped the plastic arm and pulled with all her strength. The Doctor was heaving at it at the same time, trying to dislodge the murderous thing. If anything, this made the fingers dig in more, the grip tightening. His eyes were starting to bulge out and spit freckle his lips as he gasped for air. Again, Rose heaved and pulled against the arm at the same time the Doctor did. She could feel the heat of the plastic now, the strain of muscles as she tightened her own grip, a growl rumbling deep in her chest. She was getting frantic. It wasn't like this before! Before it let go and came after her, this time it seems determined to end the Doctor first.

The growl made the Doctor look up at the human trying hard to help me. In the second he did, he lost his balance and the two of them fell backwards on the other wood and glass coffee table. Acting on instinct, the Doctor quickly wrapped an arm around her slim waist and rolled so that she ended up on his chest, bodies pressed rather intimately together. If this had been any other time, and he was any other man, he would have likely enjoyed the press of her soft curls against him, the press of her hips, fitted so completely to his own. But this was not the time, nor the place, and he was certainly not that man. Rose for her part, sat up quickly, straddling his lower stomach. She was paying no mind to their positions, only getting the bloody hand to let go of the Doctor. Her jean covered knees pressed down onto the floor, ignoring the stab of the glass shards through the tough material. Using her leg muscles, she heaved up again, growling once more.

The Doctor moved the arm he was wrapped around her waist and started trying to reach something in his leather jacket. The fingers squeezed harder, Rose pulled again upwards, one hand now wiggling fingers under the palm while the other gripped, pulling that way. He had never been so grateful for his screwdriver as he was in that moment. Pulling it out quickly, only too aware of the darkness creeping on his vision, he pressed the blue end into the arm before turning it on. The whirring sound filled the space between him and Rose. A half second later, the fingers started to relax and Rose finally pulled the plastic menace from his throat. Both were panting in the aftermath of the struggle. Rose let herself drop back down on the Doctor, leaning back as she tried to normalize her breathing. The Doctor laid beneath her, chest heaving as he started up at her. The two watched each other for a moment longer before he grinned up at her a fantastic grin, which made her start laughing. In turn, he began to laugh as well, a deep rumbling laugh that seemed to come from deep down.

The two ignored the mess in their laughter, the shattered glass around them, the broken bamboo in splinters across the floor. They also ignored the mess they were, his jumper had ridden up on his stomach, hinting at lean muscles hidden beneath the fabric, her hoodie having opened in the struggle, one shoulder off. They looked a right mess and could not seem to care in those precious seconds.

"What the hell!?"

The shrill voice cut through the moment like the shards of glass below the Doctor had cut through his cheek. The pair turned their heads and looked upon an angry Jackie Tyler. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the damage to her coffee table, to the appearance of his disheveled daughter straddling the leather wearing man she had just unsuccessfully had made a pass at, his shirt skewed. Her gaze zeroed in on the hand the man had on her daughter's hip. Anger flushed her face, and Jackie lashed out.

"Rose Tyler! You… you slag!"