Here's another short story I had to write so that I could concentrate on updating the others. It's based on a theory that I recently learned was given additional credence by Eleven in Series 5...

I'm dedicating it to Jessa L'Rynn, whose wonderful Nine/Rose stories have been teasing and taunting me into finally getting up the nerve to write something for Nine. Maybe this doesn't really count, considering the massive amounts of dialogue, but it's a start!

This chapter takes place just after "Father's Day".

Disclaimer: Surprise, surprise, I don't own Doctor Who. Nor do I get anything from writing these stories-except wonderful, constructive reviews! Wink, wink; nudge, nudge ;)

As yet un-beta'd.


Chapter 1 - Tea Time

"But why'd he do it?" Rose asked.

The Doctor looked across the table at her. She was warming her hands around a mug of tea, still too distracted to even take a sip. Her eyes were red and puffy, although she had stopped shedding tears by the time they came into the TARDIS' kitchen.

He still didn't know what to say. Her Dad had worked it all out on his own, proven himself every bit the genius Rose believed him to be, and now she was asking why he'd stepped out into the street without looking both ways. Peter Alan Tyler had just saved the world - no, reality - and his daughter didn't remember any of it. She'd held his hand as he'd died, and as far as she knew that's the way her Mum had always told the story: Pete ran out of the church, got hit by a car, and died in the street with some mysterious lady holding his hand before anyone else could get to him.

Rose probably thought she'd asked him to take her back so she could thank the mystery lady or something.

She'd have no memory of hiding when Pete got hit the first time, she wouldn't remember the Doctor giving in and taking her back again, let alone running out into the street and saving her Dad's life.

No taking back his TARDIS key, no Reapers, no getting to know her Dad, nothing.

He'd called her a stupid ape, and he'd regretted it, but now he couldn't even apologize.

He'd given his life to prolong hers just a bit, hadn't regretted it, but now he couldn't even tell her that.

It had all been his fault, from the beginning. She'd told him she meant to change history, to be there to hold her Dad's hand when he'd had no one. But the Doctor just had to prove he could do anything...

She sniffed, and looked at him expectantly.

He gave her the only answer he could think to give. "Drink yer tea."

To be continued, by popular demand.

(Explanation and possible Series 5 spoiler: At the end of "Cold Blood", Eleven is distinguishing between a time-traveler's ability to remember altered events. "They weren't part of your world. This is different... this is your own history changing." And I'm rather proud to say that I wrote this story before ever having even heard of Matt Smith.)