Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. I can dream, but I really don't.

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She'd traveled through time and space; she'd battled creatures beyond even her wildest dreams. She'd seen cat people and werewolves and murderous metal men and debatably even more murderous pepper pots. She'd absorbed the Time Vortex and became the Bad Wolf. She'd met a man with two hearts and fallen in love with him. So much had happened to Rose Tyler in her lifetime, and yet, here she was, leaning over the bathroom sink, looking at the little piece of plastic that had a littler positive sign, staring at it as if it really couldn't be there, and she found herself more shocked and stunned and astonished than she had ever been in the whole of her life, of time and of space.

And that wasn't just because she was surprised that even in an alien space ship, the way to find out if you were pregnant was by a normal, human test bought from a drug store.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom and absently walked to the console room of the Tardis. The Doctor was tinkering with the console, tightening a few of the bolts that had become loose since their last crash to Earth.

"So I was thinking," he said, speaking to Rose, though she barely heard his voice, "unless you have yet another suggestion for where we go to next—I thought you would've been a little more creative, seeing how you are from Earth, but it's hard to contradict you when you're that forceful—I thought our next stop could be this planet called Ariellus, where everything's underwater and you can actually speak to fish, isn't that fantastic? Mind you, the fish are quite territorial, but some of them can be fairly pleasant." He grunted as he finished tightening the bolts. Once finished, he threw the wrench up in the air, hurling it behind him and onto the top of a pile of other discarded tools. Rose's eyes widened. When the baby came—Oh my God I'm having a baby—all wrench-throwing would have to be abolished.

"But the view," he went on with a grin that melted her heart. "At night, when the three moons have aligned in just the right spot, the light sinks into the water and it very well might be the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen. Well, Rose? What'cha think? Rose?"

She snapped herself out of it and put a hand on the console for support. The Tardis hummed underneath her fingers. Of course, it already knew what was going on. Rose silently thanked the space ship for its support.

"Rose, have you been listening to anything I've said?" The Doctor asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Yes," she lied. "Of course I have."

"What did I just say, then?"

"Um… something about angry fish?"

He blinked at her—My daft, beautiful human—but shrugged it off. "Close enough. Anyway, so you want to go?"

"We can't, Doctor," Rose spoke clearly.

"But the view!" he pleaded childishly. "If we go now, we can make it just in time for the Aquatic Celebration—"

"Doctor, I'm pregnant."

Not a word was spoken by either of them for a long time. Even as probably the smartest man in the universe, it looked to Rose that he hadn't comprehended what she'd said. Then she wondered if maybe he hadn't heard her correctly. The silence was deafening, beating in her eardrums, waiting to hear his reply, so she decided to tell him again.

"Doctor, did you hear me? I said I'm—"

"With a baby?" he interrupted. She couldn't recall a time when he'd been paler.

She gave him pointed look. "Well, what else would I be pregnant with?"

"Ah. Right." He cast his distraught gaze to the floor. Rose screamed at him inside her head. What if he chucked her out of the Tardis? No, that wasn't like him at all. But what if he didn't want to be a father? What would happen to their life of running, always running, and travelling across the stars?

And most importantly of all, what would Jackie say? The thought was enough to terrify Rose. She became so distracted with her mental rants that she didn't see the rage clearly building up inside of the father of her child.

"Who is he?" he asked in a dangerously low voice. He clenched his fists against the Tardis. "Who's the father?"

Rose stared at him, bewildered. "Are you thick?"

"What?"

"It's you, of course!"

"Rose, don't be ridiculous. I mean, you know that I'm fond of you,"—Rose rolled her eyes at his inability to just say that he was in love with her; he was too cryptic for his own good—"but we haven't… you know."

"Yes we have. We were drunk, remember? We stopped by a pub after visiting Picasso. You got a taste of the wine and, well, the rest is sort of history." She gave him a weak smile, because the rest was indeed history, and the statement of it being history was a joke she and the Doctor—her Doctor—referred to on occasion. The Doctor didn't smile at the comment, however, but he also didn't frown. He was too busy trying to work something out in his head.

A minute later, a memory flooded his head.

"Oh," he said dumbly. "Oh. I think I remember now." His eyes widened. He glanced at the very companion he had fallen in love with and then at her stomach. It hit him like a hurricane.

"You're pregnant."

"Yes."

"With a child."

"Yes."

"My child."

"Yes."

"Making me the father of said child."

"Bingo."

"Oh."

There was another silence between them. The Tardis beeped, unable to contain her amusement, and watched her residents stare at each other, quietly passing thoughts and feelings and memories and everything else between them, even though neither were aware of it.

The Doctor said, "Oh," once again. Then he beamed at her. "Why, that's brilliant."

It felt as though a weight had been lifted. Rose sighed in relief and smiled. "Really?

"Yeah. I mean, if it is with you, of course."

"Well, yeah. I think it is."

"Good."

"Great."

Another moment passed.

"We're having a baby," he said breathlessly, and Rose grinned, biting down on her bottom lip because smiling this much hurt, and watched as upcoming fatherhood dawned on him with an excited glow.

He collapsed to the floor a second later.