a/n: This takes place shortly after Age of Steel. And I just want to thank bittie752 for encouraging me to write this story and for beta-reading this. I'm the one who usually handles grammar and punctuation, so any errors along those lines are mine; don't blame her. :) And as always, I don't own Doctor Who or any of the characters therein. If I did, the last couple of seasons would have gone quite differently.


Chapter 1

"C'mon, Rose!" the dark haired young woman yelled over the pounding music in the club. She was holding Rose's hand and was fairly dragging her across the room.

"I'm comin', Shareen, I'm comin'!" Rose yelled back.

From his position at the bar, the Doctor watched as he spotted Rose cross the room to the dance floor. He swallowed thickly as he again saw the clothes she was wearing. If you could even call them clothes, he thought. The red halter top she wore looked like little more than a scarf tied around her neck and waist and covered her front but left her back entirely exposed. Her tight black skirt rode low on her hips, leaving a four inch strip of bare skin between where her top ended and her skirt began. The skirt was so tight in fact that she probably wouldn't have been able to walk in it, let alone dance, except for the fact that it was so short. It didn't even cover to mid-thigh so it didn't restrict the movement of her legs. Her incredibly long legs… legs that were only covered by the knee high black boots she was wearing.

She is so beautiful, he thought, the low light from the club catching in her long blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders. She had grown her hair out again, he noticed. He had always loved her long hair. For a second, an eternity for a Time Lord, he imagined himself moving her silky blonde hair off her shoulders and replacing it with open mouthed kisses, caressing the exposed areas with his lips and his tongue…

He scrubbed his face with his hands as he fought off a powerful wave of arousal. This wasn't about him. This was about healing Rose. And despite the fact that she knew she had had a memory loss, losing those memories meant that mentally she was young, younger than she had been when they had first begun traveling together, back when he had had short hair and blue eyes and had first fallen in love with her. Back then he had worn a leather jacket. Like the leather of her almost not there skirt… No, thinking about how much he wanted to touch the bare skin between her skirt and her top wouldn't help her. Or the exposed skin between her skirt and her boots…

He couldn't do this. He couldn't seduce her merely to help her regain her memories. Although she had never said it, he knew she had loved him, and he thought she had known how he felt about her, but now with her memory gone she didn't even know him. He thought he had seen attraction in her eyes when she had come to the bar earlier to get a drink, but he couldn't cheapen what they had had then with a seduction now.

No matter how much he wanted her.

Oh, he missed her so, so much.

There must be another way, he said to himself for close to the millionth time. He ran his hands through his hair as his mind ran through all the possible ways he could save her without seducing her. Medical intervention. Tried and failed. Maybe I should talk to Jackie again, he thought. Maybe with more work she could help trigger Rose's memories. But that hadn't worked. And wouldn't work since the memories she had lost hadn't been from her time on the Estate. Maybe if she took her to Downing Street again, or the London Eye. Or Cardiff. But he knew that that hadn't helped so far. Jackie had already taken Rose every place in Great Britain that they had traveled to together. Even Jackie accidentally running into Sarah Jane hadn't helped. And he knew that with the type of memory loss she had, just telling her who he was and inviting her into the TARDIS, completely out of the blue, would be too much of a shock. A shock like that could mean she'd never regain her memory. No, that was no good either.

It was a mistake to come, he told himself. She's better off without me anyway. Despite what Jackie says. How many times had she almost died when she was with him? He had been selfish to ask her along in the first place. He had told himself that he wanted her along to show her the universe, as a sort of reward for saving his life, but the truth was he had asked her along to stave off his own loneliness. And because, even then, he had felt a connection with her that he hadn't felt with anyone else in a very, very long time.

He had even asked her twice, something he never had done before. Three times, actually, if you counted the time after he had regenerated.

Rose had arrived on the small dance floor of the club and begun dancing with someone he didn't recognize. From where he stood, the Doctor could see the man's hands on the small amount of bare skin between her halter top and the skirt. Waves of jealousy joined the barely controlled arousal he felt. That was the bare skin where he wanted his own hands. And his lips. And, truth be told, his tongue.

After a short time, the man left the dance floor and she began to dance with someone else. And the Doctor realized that he'd do anything to get her back. Even if it meant seducing her. Maybe he wouldn't have to seduce seduce her. Maybe just spending time with her, having her get to know him again, would be enough. And with that he drained his drink, left the bar and crossed the short distance to the dance floor.