Title: The Tart in the Fireplace

Rating: T for a little adult language

Summary: A 10Rose Reinette hate fic! This is my version of GITF. Some of it includes actual dialogue, some of it has dialogue which I reckon would have been great for the real thing, and some is just a way to poke fun at Reinette.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, and some of the dialogue is borrowed.

Author's Note: I've had this idea in my head for so long, and it was this morning, lying in bd, that I decided to do something about it. Enjoy, all my little Reinette haters!

The Tart in the Fireplace

Chapter One

Set when the Doctor goes through the fireplace the second time, to see Reinette grown up

"Reinette!" called the Doctor. "Just checking you're okay." He looked around the room, and noticed a young woman enter it.

"Oh, hello," he said. "I was just looking for Reinette." From down the hall, a voice was heard.

"Reinette, we're ready to go!" the voice said.

"Go to the carriage mother, I will join you there," the woman said, who then turned back to the Doctor.

"Reinette!" he said.

"It is customary, I think, to have an imaginary friend only during one's childhood," she said. "You are to be congratulated on your persistence."

"Huh?" said the Doctor, trying to get his head around what Reinette had just said. "Oh, right, you mean me. Sorry, it'd be a lot easier if you didn't use more words than necessary. So, you've gotten older, I see."

"And you do not appear to have aged a single day. That is tremendously impolite of you," said Reinette, approaching the Doctor.

"Er, right," said the Doctor. "Well, lovely to catch up, but I'd better be off." The Doctor went to leave, but Reinette stopped him.

What is this woman's problem? thought the Doctor, as Reinette put a hand on the his cheek.

"Well, you appear to be flesh and blood, but reason tells me you cannot be real," she said.

"Yeah, that's it, I'm not real," said the Doctor. "I'm just a figment of your imagination."

"Mademoiselle! Your mother grows impatient!" called a servant.

"A moment!" said Reinette. "So many questions, so little time …" She looked into the Doctor's eyes and leaned forward to kiss him. The Doctor, however, took a big step back.

"Whoa, what do you think you're doing?" he said. "Do you make a habit out of throwing yourself at total strangers?"

"You're not a stranger," said Reinette. "I've known you since I was seven years old (A/N Which is historically inaccurate, because Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson did not receive the nickname "Reinette" until she was nine years old, when a fortune teller predicated that she would become the king's mistress. "Reinette" means "little queen". How about that!)."

"No no no no no, you've known of me since you were seven years old," said the Doctor. "There's a big difference. You don't actually know anything about me, you've merely been aware of my existence."

"I know you scared away the monsters," said Reinette. "You're my guardian angel."

"No, I was just in the right place at the right time," said the Doctor.

"Well, I know what I'd like to do to you," persisted Reinette, licking her lips.

"Well I'm afraid you're alone there, sweetheart," said the Doctor. Reinette but her lip in fury and ran out of the room. Just then the servant that had been calling before came into the room.

"What are you doing in Mademoiselle Poisson's room?" he asked the Doctor.

"Poisson?" said the Doctor. "Reinette Poisson? As in Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, the famous slut? Of course, I should have guessed. The stuck-up attitude, the smug look on her face, the way she thought I'd be eating putty out of her hand …"

"Who are you?" the servant said.

"I'm the Doctor," replied the Doctor, stepping onto the fireplace. "And I just escaped snogging Madame de Pompadour!"