Disclaimer: Well, will you look at that...nope, I don't own them this decade either. Though I hear Ten's without ownership these days, poor chap.

AN: I should probably point out SPOILERS FOR END OF TIME PART II about now. Just a bit of pondering.

Rose doesn't think about him until much later. It's been a long day and even if her mother is still raring to go partying, Rose has had enough. She wants a cuppa and a warm bed. Mickey said he'd be over later to ring in a quiet New Years. It's just the way she likes it.

The next morning they all sleep in. Her mum stumbled back in the early morning hours. She made just enough noise to wake Rose before collapsing into bed across the hall. Breakfast is a leisurely affair, drawn out for most of what's left of the morning because it's New Year's Day and none of them are working. She and Mickey head off to meet up with friends down the pub after lunch and the rest of the day is passed in the warmth of a cosy booth and a couple of pints.

It's not, in fact, until later the next day that she even remembers him. She's in the middle of lunch, huddled in the cold of the back room at Henricks and studiously ignoring the conversation going on to her right when she recalls the strange meeting. She can't really remember his face because he was mostly in the shadows but she got the vague sense of spiky hair and a long brown coat. At least, she thinks it was brown. His accent was lovely though, a right proper one as her mum says. It seems strange now to recall it. She made the obvious assumption that he was drunk enough he couldn't walk straight and so anything he said must be taken with less than a grain of salt, but now she's not so sure. He didn't sound drunk and Rose thinks she's enough of an expert on that subject. He just sounded like he was in pain. Maybe she should have offered to help or called him a taxi to the hospital. They'd have been flooded with New Year's accidents, but if he'd been injured or ill it was still a better place for him then wandering around the Powell Estate in the dead of night.

Still, she'd left him and that was that. Maybe he made it home or curled up on a doorstop for the night – though he hadn't looked homeless – but either way there's nought to be done about it now. Rose finishes the last of the coke she brought for lunch and resumes thinking about what she's paid to think about.

This isn't the life she wants. Yeah, it's a job and those are hard to come by. And she's got her Mickey, who's nice and sometimes sweet and Rose knows it could be much worse. Because she had the other side before. But it's not enough. She isn't sure what is, but nine to five, come home to chips and her mum and boyfriend isn't it.

Maybe this year will be better. Maybe he was right.