A/N: Ah, the end. I was particularly pleased with how this turned out, but that may just be me. Actually, it probably is just me. Oh well.
Rose Tyler opened the door to her small, modest flat and let herself inside, locking it behind her. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the hook by the door before toeing out of her stilettos.

Glancing in the mirror over the little hall table, she studied her light brown hair. The roots weren't heinous, but they were beginning to show and now that she'd noticed them, it would bother her until she got around to fixing it.

One of these days she was going to give up and just dye her hair that deep, chocolate brown she'd been unfortunately graced with, just to save the trouble.

At least it wasn't blonde, like she'd had it for a few years when she was younger. The colour had looked decent enough on her, but looking back she'd looked a bit…well, cheap. And the upkeep had been murder.

Bending, she picked up her shoes and headed into her bedroom to change from the suit to her sweats and fuzzy socks. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail as she walked into the kitchen and opened the door to the fridge, holding it open with her hip as she finished putting her hair back.

There was disturbingly little in the fridge to eat for supper and she remembered suddenly that she had decided to go grocery shopping. After changing into jeans and throwing on a hoodie, she grabbed her bag and left her flat. She walked down the sidewalk to the corner chippie and stood the queue, waiting for her chance to order her meal.

The salt and vinegar scents that wafted up every time a plate of chips was served and passed across the counter made her stomach growl loudly, and it was only getting louder. Belatedly, she remembered she hadn't eaten since—

Suddenly, her heart was in her throat, conveniently positioned just above the barrel of a pistol being held under her chin. Her assailant's other arm came around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides and she looked around wildly as the chip shop broke out in shouts and screams.

"Don't move or she gets it!" A high-pitched, whiny voice shouted out, at least a metre above her head.

Oh, great. Not only was she going to die in a chip shop, which would certainly be her life's greatest achievement, she was going to be killed by a freak of an alien that spoke in a falsetto with an East Indian accent.

"Oi! Where'd you get that line? Eastenders, a bank robbery scene, maybe? Or one of those old American Spaghetti Westerns?" A tall, lanky man stepped out of the crowd and Rose's jaw dropped a bit, as much as the pistol holding her in place would allow.

Hello? She was about to die and he was making fun of the alien's dialogue?

"I do not know what spaggretti is. Move again and she gets it!" Incredulous, Rose watched as the man rolled his piercing, ice-blue eyes before standing hip shot, long arms crossing over his broad chest.

"Kill her if you want, I don't care." The man shrugged carelessly and Rose glared at him as the alien tightened his grip around her. She began to struggle, letting out a wordless cry when the pistol was shoved painfully into her voice box and swallowing hard. She kept struggling.

"Although—" the man's Northern accent boomed across the nearly silent crowd and Rose stilled slightly. "You could just ask for whatever you want and let everyone go."

"This is how humans do this, alien. They threaten others of their species to procure that which they attempt to own without rightful ownership." Rose blinked and turned slightly to looking up at the sticky purple alien holding her.


"That's just on telly. You don't think telly is real, do you?" The man clucked his tongue and Rose felt her temper rising again. "Usually, they really dislike being held hostage by smelly, melodramatic Caribdai shoving blasters in their necks. Just to let you know."

"If they give me what I ask for, I let the unclean human go."

"Unclean!" Rose shrieked, voice hoarse, struggling anew. "Like you have a bleeding right to call me—" The pistol moved to her temple, the alien's arm that had been around her waist now around her throat, forcing her to gag her last words. She gripped the tightly muscled forearm and dragged her nails down it, attempting to free herself.

"Do you see, alien? This works much better when you kill them."

"Right. Bye, then." The man flicked a glance at her, their eyes connecting for a split second and Rose felt something spark in her brain before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Rose was sure she had blacked out for a minute because the next thing she remembered, the putrid-smelling alien that was bleeding putrid-smelling black blood all over her from the gouges she'd inflicted in his…her…it's… arm was waving the pistol wildly, causing other patrons to scream and dive for cover.

It seemed like the crowd was smaller, but then there were also black spots across her vision from the lack of air so her abilities at counting at the moment were unreliable. The alien was screaming at the servers behind the glass-fronted bar, demanding…vinegar--

The goddamned alien was holding her hostage for vinegar?

--when a huge explosion rocked the opposite end of the chippie. The room shook around them, black smoke immediately filling the area, bits of plaster and wood falling to the floor in the sudden darkness. She felt something heavy hit her shoulder and the alien lost his grip on her.

Suddenly, she realised that his her it's arm had been the only thing holding her up as she slammed into the ground. Groaning, she shook her head, reaching up to rub her eyes when a hand grabbed her arm.

Suddenly, the man that had taunted her captor was there, crouching in front of her.

"Can you walk?" He asked hurriedly. Climbing to her knees, testing the strength of her legs, she let him pull her to her feet and nodded.

"Good." He gripped her hand and tugged hard, taking off. "Run!"


R&R, please. Sequel?