Welcome to a first publicized attempt at Doctor Who fanfiction. Please enjoy your stay. Feel free to leave reviews on your way out.

No rights to Doctor Who.

BBC, and whatnot.

Part 1: Resistance

The thing about women being left on chilly Norwegian beaches after being present for the genocide of an alien fleet set on destroying reality with the man who committed said genocide and your own mum is that no one really knows what to address first.

Jackie Tyler, in classic Jackie-Tyler style, comes up with something first, and her utterance is what no one considered being the next words spoken between the three of them.

"Did you sprout any new organs when you lost one of your hearts?"

The Doctor peers over his shoulder at Jackie, standing far off behind him and Rose. Rose still looks straight on at the spot where the TARDIS had just dematerialized.

"Sorry?" the Doctor prompts.

"Are there any other human organs you were missing before?" she clarifies. "Maybe aliens only have one lung and four kidneys! Did you feel low on kidneys?"

"Mum," Rose says softly, still not looking back. Her voice is low and somber, yet has an air of lightness to it, like she doesn't know how to feel about just about anything.

"I ought to take care of transport and things," Jackie dismisses herself smoothly. "Good thing I brought a mobile, eh?"

The Doctor nods her off, and she turns to saunter off. She treks across the sandy expanse of Bad Wolf Bay and disappears behind a cluster of jagged rocks in the distance.

The Doctor faces forward again, glancing sidelong at Rose, who still looks perplexed.

"Okay?" he asks kindly.

"Fine," she replies blandly.

"That bad, eh?" the Doctor considers.

"I said fine."

"When someone actually is 'fine,' and is asked if they're okay or how they're doing, the response they think up usually isn't 'fine,'" the Doctor explains.

"Yeah, you've cracked it," Rose nods exaggeratedly. "I'm not fine. Give the man an award."

"Well, no need to be condescending," he pouts.

"Sorry," Rose sighs, glancing down at the ground before returning her gaze to the previous location of the TARDIS. "Long day."

"Tell me about it," the Doctor agrees. "I was just sprouted and lost most of my friends to their own lives in their own world."

He says it lightly, but it warrants a doe-eyed gaze from Rose, who finally looks away from the TARDIS dematerialization location and right at him. She holds his gaze for a while, then asks him quizzically, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he says without a thought, and Rose raises her eyebrows at the notion. The Doctor switches subjects quickly before this can be further examined. "Not meaning to rush you, Rose, but how long are we planning to stay here?"

"You can go," Rose dismissed him, lowing herself to the ground in a sitting position, "wait with mum if you want."

"Fat chance," he scoffs, peering down at her. "Give me a ballpark figure."

"Well . . ." Rose begins nervously, "I suppose you would remember if you have the same memories, right? Back when we were travelling with Mickey," her voice falters when she says the name, as if it pains her, "and we landed on that spaceship connected to France from the past—"

"Ah," the Doctor understands.

Rose trailed off. "Sorry if that, like, offends you or something."

"No," he replies. "It's fine."

The Doctor sits himself down next to Rose, prepared to wait with her, even if the original Doctor actually did end up returning for her.

And really, it's something he would absolutely consider doing.

Five and a half hours later, the TARDIS'd Doctor didn't show. The meta-crisis Doctor hopped to his feet, offering his hand down to Rose.

"Well, that three-hundred-thirty minutes," he announces.

Rose's face looks pained as she looks on at the still-vacant space before her. The scenery itself is rather dreary, grey and pale and cloudy, so sadness looms over the both of them like blanket. The Doctor is eager to leave. Frankly, so is Rose, but not in the same way.

Rose starts at the hand offered to her, as if just noticing it. She takes it cordially, and the Doctor hoists her to her feet.

"Off we go, then," he smiles encouragingly.

Rose forces something resembling a smile of her own, but she still seems just as dreary as their surroundings.

"Where's mum?" she asks.

"Took off that way," the Doctor nudges his head toward the rocks.

They start trudging off together, side by side. Rose's arms are crossed tightly to her chest.

"So do you still live with your mother, then?" the Doctor inquires, trying to drum up a nice conversation between the two of them.

"No," she replies, clearly trying to make an effort as well. "They got me a place closer to the Torchwood facility. It's decent, but nothing compared to a…"

She purses her lips, catching herself before she says the words.

But nothing compared to a TARDIS.

"But, yeah, it's nice. My parents are rich now."

She says it so passively, like money doesn't mean all that much to her. The Doctor smiles to himself at the notion.

"Where will you be staying?" she asks suddenly.

"What?" the Doctor frowns, confused.

"I guess you could stay with Jackie and Pete until you get your bearings," she mused.

"Get my bearings?" the Doctor repeats.

"Well, yeah."

"Rose, I've been travelling space and time, or at least have the memories of it, and you expect to just buck up and get my bearings?"

"It's what I did!" Rose shoots back, a bit of resentment creeping into her voice. "What else are we supposed to do with you besides throw you out in the world and see how it works?"

"Some specifics were hinted at," the Doctor reminds her.

"Excuse me?"

"As far as you and I go, the intention was rather clear."

Rose brings them to a half, stopping to face him as she argues. "The Doctor does not have the authority to shove me with someone and expect me to fall head over heels for him because they know how to die!"

"You didn't seem to mind so much five and a half hours ago!" the Doctor countered, the same bitterness rising in his voice as well. "And, if we'd check the records, we'd see that you already developed somewhat of a fondness for me."

"That wasn't you!" Rose exclaims before she can stop herself.

"Rose, essentially, it was—"

"Let's not dive into the technicalities of it, please," she requests, beginning to trudge off again.

The Doctor trots after her, "Rose, in order to make this work, get a new perspective about it."

"This?" she echoes. "What exactly is this supposed to be?"

"Must I repeat the part about the clear intention?"

"I wish you wouldn't," she rolls her eyes.

"Rose," the Doctor says, almost as a reprimand. When she doesn't so much as look at him, keeping up her brisk pace, her shoes smashing into the sand, he tries again. "Rose."

Slightly fed up with the cold shoulder, the Doctor moves to step into her path, grabbing hold of her shoulders before she bumps into him.

"Rose Tyler, you listen to me," he demands, not rudely, but with an intensity that demanded to be heard.

Rose doesn't answer. Her lips a hard line and her jaw squared, but she seems to be listening.

"I know you don't understand the science of it, and frankly, there's less room in my brain, and I don't understand it entirely either. Maybe I was with you for those two years, maybe I wasn't and I sprung from that hand thing a few hours ago. You know what? Maybe this is all a very vivid dream. There's a surprising amount of theoretical guessing involved in space-time travel. Maybe we're not even in a parallel world and the TARDIS instead set its coordinates on a strikingly similar planetoid filled with humanoids that feed off—"

"The point, Doctor? If you don't mind," Rose suggests.

"The point is, no matter what I am, I still . . . I still love you and you still love him...me."

Rose bats his arms off of her shoulders. "That's presumptuous of you, isn't it? To tell me how I feel ?"

"You told me you did."

"I told him. And you just said neither of us grasp the science, so don't try to jump into it, alright? For all we know, you just have the memories and you actually are a few hours old."

"This all could be very simple, Rose," the Doctor informs her, getting very close to her face.

"Simple?" she scoffs. "Please, point out one part of this situation that is in any way simple."

"Fine," he accepted. "I lo—"

Rose groans, and pushes past him.

"Rose Tyler, were you always this difficult?" the Doctor calls after her.

"More so, trust me," a new voice chimes in.

Rose Tyler ambles over to stand beside her mother, seated on one of the smoother rocks situated on Darlig Ulv Stranden.

"Just in time, you two," Jackie grins broadly. "Torchwood should be along and minute. Take's them a bit to get their bearings, I suppose."

The Doctor and Rose did not bring up the poor word choice and let the previous conversation topic fizzle out.

"Torchwood?" the Doctor scrunches his eyebrows, moving toward the Tyler girls.

"Yeah," Rose informs him. "That's where I went to get my bearings, remember?"

"How's that going?" the Doctor asks, moving to stand beside her.

"I don't know if I still have a job," she realizes abruptly.

"Why not?"

"Torchwood was helping her get back to you . . . err . . . The Doctor," Jackie informed him. "They all assumed she'd stay there."

"Ohh," the Doctor muses. "Well, I assume they'd let you back in if you wanted. You must've been good at your job, right?"

"I was a bit . . ." she looks at him pointedly, ". . . difficult."

The Doctor chortles.

Just then, the sand at their feet begins to stir. They look skyward, where an aerodynamic-looking, dish-shaped object casts an oblong shadow on the beach shore as it eases toward them.

"Seriously," the Doctor groans. "A flying saucer?"

"You're the only one on the planet who wouldn't be impressed," Rose says. Her blonde hair twirled around itself in the wind the ship created.

"You don't seem impressed," the Doctor notices.

"I've seen ships that were bigger on the inside," she points out.

She begins to smile, but then she remembers how unlikely it is that she'd ever see that ship again.

And her smile falters.

The Doctor looks upon the expression shift sadly, wondering if she'd ever see her smile a big, shameless grin with him ever again, or if her memories would prevent her from doing so.