First Doctor/Rose fic! *happy dance* Not my OTP, but still an adorable couple, especially when it's Nine! :D
Also my first time even writing the characters, so be gentle! Though I did really enjoy writing this, especially the TARDIS! Sexy is so fun to write! XD
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Christopher Eccleston, Billie Piper, or John Barrowman. I do however own That Fantastic Little Girl, the story and the character.
"Mummy! Wake up, Mummy!" a small voice whispered loudly in Rose's ear. The young woman groaned, burying her head under her pillows.
"Mum-my!" the small girl pleaded. "I'm hungry! I want banana pancakes! Can you make banana pancakes?" Rose knew she wasn't going to get anymore sleep now that her daughter was awake, and conceded to the child's request to get up. She cracked open her eyes, and grinned at the adorably frustrated expression on the little girl's face. So much like her father, Rose thought. Speaking of which…
"Alright, Tab, I'm gettin' up. But I think you should wake Daddy up, too, don't ya think? I mean, banana pancakes are his favorite as well, aren't they?" She implored. The little Tyler nodded her head furiously, clearly agreeing with her mother. Within the span of what seemed like a second, the six-year-old had pounced on the man lying in the bed next to Rose, making him release a pained oof! in surprise. His eyelids slid open, revealing a stunning shade of ice blue. The Doctor gazed up at the tiny person sitting on his chest, taking in the big doe eyes and raven colored hair. He couldn't help by smile a bit.
"Do you really have to wake me up like that?" He asked her, to which she beamed a massive grin at him.
"Yup! We're havin' banana pancakes!" She exclaimed happily. He sat up then, settling the child in his lap.
"Fantastic! I love banana pancakes. Bananas are -"
"Good!" she finished for him. The Time Lord chuckled at that, running his fingers through her long, dark hair.
"You Tylers will be the end of me," He said, turning to the blonde woman at his side who was grinning just as wide as their daughter and him. "But what a way to go, hmm?"
With that, the Doctor slung his little girl over his shoulder, her squealing in delight the entire time. He strolled out of the room, Rose trailing behind, sighing inwardly at the fact that he was still wearing his clothes from the previous day. Daft man, staying up to all hours, tinkering with his precious machine! She mentally lamented, but quickly forgot about her love's attire as she heard their daughter's bell-like laughter coming from farther down the corridor. She sprinted to catch up with her little family, not wanting to miss a moment with them.
Rose found them in one of the TARDIS's many kitchens, accompanied by one Captain Jack Harkness, who stood at the counter stirring a mixing bowl of pancake batter, an apron commanding 'French Kiss The Cook' tied around his waist. The Doctor was stationed at the stove, frying bacon and sausages in a pan. TARDIS Family Bonding, she mused.
She sat down at the table next to her daughter, giving Jack a cheery "Good morning, Chef Harkness!"
Jack chuckled. "And good morning to you too, Rosie. How many flapjacks do you want?"
"Two's good for me."
"Alright then," Jack then turned to the smallest occupant of the kitchen. "How about you, Tabby? How many you want?" Tabby made a show of seriously thinking about the number of pancakes she wanted, before finally deciding an appropriate answer.
"Twenty-three." She said at last. Jack let out a low whistle.
"Don't you think that's a bit too much, kiddo?" He asked her, clearly amused.
"Nonsense!" The Doctor interjected over his shoulder. "That's a fine amount for a growing Time Lady. And Tabatha certainly is sproutin' up, now isn't she?" He exclaimed, catching Tabby's eye, making her giggle. "But just to be on the safe side," he continued. "I don't think it would be such a good idea to go at all twenty-three at once. How about we start with, say, three?" He suggested. The little Time Lady sighed, puffing out her cheeks and blowing her dark bangs out of her face.
"Fine, I'm start with three. But I'm still gonna eat the other twenty!"
"Of that I have little doubt." The Doctor laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately and placing the dish of bacon on the table.
Soon, everyone was seated at the table, eating their breakfast and joking around. Jack would make a flirtatious comment (for even with a child in the room the man was without shame), and the Doctor would fire back with a witty, dry retort, Tabby giggling joyously the whole time. Rose couldn't think of a time she had ever been happier. Sitting at the kitchen table, eating banana pancakes with her most loyal friend, the love of her life, and their daughter. She stole a glance at the Doctor and Tabatha, the former explaining the molecular structure of their favorite fruit to the latter. Watching him now, interacting so seamlessly with a small child – their child – she wondered how he could have ever said he didn't do domestic. He did it just fine, if her opinion counted for anything. And she rather thought it did, considering she had carried that daft alien's offspring for twelve bloody months! But it had been so worth it. Holding her baby girl in her arms after waiting for her to appear for a full year felt like nothing else. The memory of the maniacally happy grin that had been on the Doctor's face when he first got to hold his child always made joyful tears form in Rose's eyes. He had told her she was perfect, brilliant, fantastic.
They named her Tabatha because Rose had always thought it to be a beautiful name, and the Doctor agreed. When they finally brought her to see Grandma Jackie, she cried at how lovely her granddaughter was, and at how her daughter seemed to glow with the radiance of new motherhood. She had hugged the Doctor so tight and for so long that he couldn't breath and briefly had to switch to his respiratory bypass system, apologizing over and over for all the times she had slapped him, and thanking him over and over for making her a grandmother.
And here she was, six years later, her little girl growing fast and becoming more brilliant and fantastic by the day. She had obviously inherited her father intelligence, but she had also acquired her mother's kind and compassionate heart. She had also gained a rather mischievous streak, thanks to the life-long influence of her favorite Uncle Jack.
Life was simply fantastic, Rose decided. She had a wonderful family, close friends, and the whole of time and space at her fingertips. She wanted it to last forever… for it to never end.
Suddenly, the kitchen was filled was a strange knocking sound. She scanned the room, trying to figure out what it could be, when to her horror, the scene before her began to fade away.
Rose shot up from her bed in a cold sweat, gasping and panting. What was going on? Where was the kitchen? And the Doctor and Jack and banana pancakes?
Where was Tabatha?
She was startled from her panicked thoughts by more knocking. It was coming from the door.
"Rose?" The Doctor called through the door in his rough Northern accent. "Jack's making coffee and tea, if you want some. I'll be in the console room working on some repairs."
She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.
"O-okay. I'll go get a cuppa once I'm dressed." She replied feebly. She could just see the Doctor nodding in confirmation, and then heard him walking away, his footsteps growing softer the farther down the corridor he went.
Rose couldn't hold back the tears anymore, letting them spill down her cheeks in hot trails as she curled herself into a ball. It had only been a dream. Her memories of pregnancy, her daughter, and, the cruelest of all the lies her mind had conjured, the Doctor's love.
Of course he didn't love her. At least not how she wanted him to – enough to have a child with her. And why would he ever want that with her? As far as he was concerned, she was just another stupid ape that he had to save. She knew she would never hold his hearts, not like that. And yet she had unconsciously deluded herself into believing that she could, that she did, and that he returned her feelings fully.
Tabatha never existed, she realized, and never would. That fantastic little girl with the raven hair and the doe eyes was but a figment of her imagination; something that she wanted desperately, but could never have.
And the impossibility of the whole situation utterly destroyed her.
The Doctor was a coward. He'd always been a coward, as far back as he could remember. That's why he stole a TARDIS and ran away. He would never admit it to anyone, especially in this incarnation, but he had fears.
And his biggest fear at the moment was a pink and yellow human girl.
There had to be something dreadfully wrong with him. He had to be ill, he just had to be. Why else would he feel these things for her? She was young, and beautiful, and human, and he was old, with a daft face and big ears, and not human. It would never, could never work.
But he also knew that he felt more for His Rose than any companion he'd had before her, and he knew that simply by the fact that he referred to her as His Rose. He realized quite awhile ago that she had stolen his hearts; probably when they had gone to 1869 and she had wore that stunning dress, actually. He had told her she was beautiful then, but had quickly covered up with another jab at her species and how he obviously thought himself superior to her.
Ever since the Time War, he had learned to create masks for himself to wear; how to hide his true emotions. But recently, he had found cracks forming in his masks, and he knew that Rose was able to peek through.
He tried to avoid confronting this in any way he could think of. He made sure that Jack was always present so he wouldn't have to be alone with her, and kept insisting on going on numerous adventures to keep him and his companions busy. But it was times like these – the in-between times on the TARDIS, drifting through the Vortex with nowhere and nowhen to go – that he had time to think.
He cared about Rose. And not just as a companion or friend or charge, but in the four-lettered-word-that-he-could-never-admit-to way. He wanted her; wanted to hold her, and kiss her, and four-letter-word her, but he knew he couldn't. She wouldn't want someone like him anyway. An old, broken, war-torn soldier. Though, since he had met her, he felt that he was a little less broken, that somehow she had managed to put him back together, even if only a tiny bit.
And he was sure it was these thoughts and feelings that made him dream what he had. Usually when he slept, he had horrible, terrifying flashback to the Time War, but not this time.
This time he dreamed of living a domestic life with His Rose on the TARDIS, accompanied by Jack and small girl with his hair color and Rose's eyes who kept calling him Daddy.
When he woke up, he felt a fire in the pit of his stomach burning him from the inside out, and a small, insistent, niggling voice in his head commanding him to do things he never would have done on his own.
Go to Rose. Make her yours. Give that child life.
So he had ran, just as he always had. Except now, he wasn't running away. He was running to a brighter future; The Doctor and his Tyler women on the TARDIS, plus a flirtatious ex-time agent to baby-sit on date nights.
He practically flew down the halls of his ship to Rose's room, and before he had even come to a complete halt he was knocking furiously on her door.
He was going to claim her, make her his. Forever and ever.
And that's when his brain caught up with him. He couldn't have forever with Rose Tyler, no matter how much he wanted it. She was human, and he was a Time Lord; he was right in his earlier assumption that it would never work. He would have to watch her grow old and die, while he stayed eternally in the prime of life. Because even if he did look the part of her senior, he would still outlive her. He would always lose her in the end.
At some point during his internal monologue, he had stopped knocking. He decided that he had probably already woken her up, so he called out to her, saying that Jack was making tea and coffee, and that he'd be making repairs if she needed him. She answered that she would have some after she had gotten dressed, and he nodded in confirmation, beginning a much calmer journey to the console room.
Once he had made his way to the heart of his amazing ship, he placed his hands on the main console and sobbed.
"I'm sorry," He whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry, my fantastic Tabatha."
Because in the end, that fantastic little girl with the raven hair and the doe eyes would never be born, because her would-be father was to scared of losing his family before it even existed.
The TARDIS groaned in displeasure. Surely Her Thief couldn't be this dense, could he? Did he truly doubt the Yellow One's love? Why, She was absolutely positive that she loved Her Thief nearly as much as Herself! And the Yellow One disappointed Her as well! Did she really think herself not good enough for Her Thief? How could they not see the pure but denied and hidden love in the other's eyes?
She thought that perhaps showing them visions of the future-that-may-be would bring them together; take away their blindness. She could sense how badly they wanted the vision to be truth, but what they didn't realize was that it could be truth if they were willing to take a chance. Of course She knew that it would likely lead to heartbreak, and Her Thief could take little more of that at this time. But what about the lovely time they could have in-between? They had Her, after all, and it was Her job to keep Her Thief and his Strays safe, and it wasn't really much trouble to add a Time Tot into the mix, was it?
No, She rather thought not.
Then why not take the leap? Oh! because Her Thief was scared! Scared that he would only put her in more danger, and if he put her in more danger, than the Time Tot would be in danger as well! Now it made sense! Her Thief was a Worrier this time around.
Oh! But next time he wouldn't be! Next time, he'll be bold and rash and a bit rude-and-not-ginger. But he'll also be compassionate and kind and so so human. That's what Her Thief needs: a healthy dose of humanity!
Perhaps then she can try again. Send Her Thief and the Yellow One visions of the future-that-may-be.
But, She thinks, it is a shame. Because by the next time, the Time Tot in the vision will be a skinny little boy with brown sticky-uppy hair and an affinity for Converse trainers, and not that fantastic little girl with the raven hair and the doe eyes.
It really is a shame. She would have loved that little girl like nothing else in the Universe.
I think Tabatha Tyler is my new favorite OC. Which is unfortunate, because technically, she doesn't even exist! But even so, my brain has gone into character-development mode and won't shut off, so by now I've given her a personality and voice, which was a really stupid move because now I'll never let her go. :(
I just might have to make an AU where she exists, if only for the sake of making her "real".
And you know how the Minotaur lives on the faith of people? Yeah, I'm like that, except I live off reviews.