Foreword: This is an idea that has been bugging me since I watched the repeat of "The End of Time" on TV tonight. I haven't the foggiest as to where this will take me, if it goes anywhere at all. I'm writing entirely in the spur of the moment.
I own nothing of Doctor Who, and reject everything to do with Rose Tyler and Doctor/human romantic relationships. In my ideal world the doctor died before becoming anything resembling his currently televised regenerations.
Sorry if I offend anyone, but I refuse to write, read, or accept as canon, anything to do with the afore mentioned 'shipping'. Now without further ado, I give you:

The Last of Kin

Gallifrey

Gallifrey was a truly magnificent world. The tall, silver-leaved trees reflected the burnt orange sky. The twin suns, known in Time Lord legend as Mina and Loren, the red daughters of time and the mothers of their race, were slowly disappearing below the horizon, the low light setting a fire of colour to the pristine Arkytior flowers she was named for.

She savoured her last look of the planet in the glowing orange light, knowing instinctively that it would be her last. Her parents stood not far from her, talking quietly to her grandfather. Her grandmother's death was still recent in the terms of Time Lords, but the decades it would be in Earth time would make her Grandfather appear unstable to the planet's native residents.

That was the reason why she was out here now, taking this last chance to run her bare feet through the silken red grass. She was going to miss home so much, but she was now past the age where attending the academy was mandatory, at least by the rules the Prydonian Chapter. Her parents had tried to keep her out of it as long as they could, in contrast to her grandfather's parents who had enrolled him when he was eight, or so went the stories she'd been told.

He himself had told her about the awe-inspiring terror that was the time vortex. She hadn't believed him when he'd described the fear and power that had rooted him to the very precipice of it. Of the whispers he'd heard and felt, the tendrils of unfathomable knowledge that reached out into his mind. That was the comfort of insanity which the fabric of reality offered, he'd told her. Her parents refused to speak of it.

Now she knew for herself, and it was everything her grandfather had told her and more. She had run before setting even a foot in front of it. She'd turned her back on her class and instructor, heading straight for the nearest transport out of the capitol and to the fields where her parents lived and dreamt of the happenings of the universe.

She knew upon her arrival, as did they, that she would have to go back to the capitol and the academy, but none of them said a thing. Instead she spent the evening revelling in the warmth and comfort of her renewed connection telepathic to her parents and home.

And so it was that when her grandfather came storming in, angrily throwing aside his formal Prydonian robes, she was there to hear of his looming exile. And this gave her the seeds of a plan. She didn't know exactly what he'd done, no doubt some latest form of disrespect to the High Council over the 'involvement' debate they'd been having ever since her grandmother's death.

It was considered a great tragedy, amongst Time Lord society, that one of their own had been killed so young, just barely three hundred years old, and before even her first regeneration. She didn't know the details of how – few did, and none of those few would tell her – but she did know that her mother had been grieving for most of her life, and her grandfather… well, his madness in the aftermath was well known. He demanded to be called 'the Doctor' and all manner of things, none more so than the demands he levelled at the high council, the latest consequence of which being his exile from Gallifrey.

At sixteen years of age she had only brief memories of her grandmother, but she remembered enough to know that she was exceedingly beautiful and generous, and her grandfather was once a witty and gentle man, but for the most part these vague impressions were hard to reconcile with the lonely, moody and cantankerous grandfather she'd known most of her life. But now she was determined to run away with him, sure he had some plan to escape the planet without being escorted off it.

Arkytior was sure that by now her parents, and probably her grandfather too, were aware of her intentions, but no one made any move to confront. She could feel her mother's concern and worry as Arkytior made her way leisurely through the country Gallifrean gardens surrounding her home of sixteen years. Her father suddenly reached out to her, pulling Arkytior in towards himself and her mother. Together they three shared a silent embrace, before they broke apart.

She and her mother now looked to her grandfather, daughter and granddaughter meeting his eyes squarely, but no less worriedly, before he sighed.

Addressing Arkytior, he spoke the first and last words of the evening. "Well, come now, child. If you are so determined to get away, then at least you can help me get everything prepared." And with that he stomped back towards the sprawling and expansive homestead, the metallic structure gleaming bronze in the last of the suns' light.

With one last embrace, and silent promises made between them, she and her parents parted, her mother with tears in her eyes to match Susan's own. Only her father's reassuring smile kept her from turning back as she ran after her grandfather.

A/N: Arkytior is Susan Foreman/English/Campbell's Gallifreyan name in the extended canon. It his High Gallifreyan for a Gallifrey-native flower. If anyone is interested, they can look up the etymology of 'Susan' to understand the rough translation.