Doctor Who Secret Santa

Pairing: Twelve x Rose Rating: Explicit Series: As It Should Be

written for @dwsecretsanta for @serindipitysays (I am so sorry for it’s lateness!!)

tagging: @doctorroseprompts for the 31 Days of Christmas prompts: workshop, gingerbread, naughty and/or nice, santa and/or elves, mistletoe, friends, family, celebrate

Read at AO3 or TS

–

Rose breathed in the steam wafting from her mug before taking a sip of her tea in an attempt to chase away the fog of sleep. The soft material of her pajamas slid across the skin of her legs and almost tempted her to turn around and go back to bed. She’d barely made a sound as she padded into the console room, but the Doctor lifted his head from the mess of wires that comprised his latest project and homed in on her.

“Rose!” He jumped up from his seat and ran over to his wife. After kissing her on the cheek, his eyes took in what she was wearing and his forehead wrinkled. “Why so many layers?

Rose glanced down at the cotton flannel pajamas, heavy socks, and thick robe she had on. She stepped into the Doctor’s personal space and ran her finger down his chest. “Don’t think I wasn’t gonna surprise you with my new Christmas teddy…” Rose leaned back and directed the rest of her comment toward the ceiling, “but it was bloody freezing this morning.”

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Broadchurch Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Alec Hardy/Rose Tyler, Clara Oswin Oswald/Danny Pink Characters: Alec Hardy, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor | John Smith, Clara Oswin Oswald, Danny Pink, Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, Graham O'Brien, Ryan Sinclair, Yasmin Khan, Ellie Miller (Broadchurch), Daisy Hardy Additional Tags: Alec as alt!Ten, Lovecraftian, This fic is a love/horror fic, Dark fluff, major pining, smutty moments, References to Lovecraft, Soulmark AU Summary:

“My name is Alec. I’ve been having nightmares ever since I was a little boy. All of them seem to feature the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. We have the same mark on our wrists, and when she touches me…. I can’t explain it. She’s everything, and it’s destroying my life…”

After solving the case of Danny Latimer, Alec’s sister Clara invites him on a yacht to take a weekend trip to get to know some of her lady friends. They don’t realise what the ocean depths have in store for them, and that a dream isn’t always just a dream…

This is part one of my gift to @timeladyelpia for the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange! Apologies for the delay; I hope you enjoy this! Your info said you enjoy reunions and established relationships, so that’s what this is :)

Ten x Rose, 4400 words, teen

Also tagging @doctorroseprompts 

Summary: Despite being locked away in different universes, the Doctor and Rose have managed to stay connected through their marriage bond, celebrating holidays and special events even through the impenetrable distance. After celebrating three Christmases apart, fate brings them together once more just in time for the holidays.

Note: If anybody remembers this little ficlet (If Only in My Dreams) I wrote for last year’s Ficmas, I borrowed from that idea and wrote the reunion. However, you do NOT need to have read that in order to understand this.

AO3

The holidays were one of the hardest times for the Doctor. Though he didn’t naturally celebrate—at least not any Earth or human holiday—Rose had. Oh, he would join in the festivities with his past companions, wishing them Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Festivus, or whatever holiday they in particular celebrated, but he was always on the outside looking in.

But all of that had changed when he’d met Rose, when he regenerated into his current body and left her and the Earth to fend for themselves during a Sycorax invasion while he was—helpfully—in a regenerative coma. All on Christmas Day.

When it all had blown over—blown up, more like it, thanks to Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister—he had strangely been invited to Christmas dinner at the Tylers’. Even more strangely, he’d said yes. After he changed, of course. He couldn’t very well have Christmas dinner in his borrowed jimjams. No, he’d gone back to his TARDIS and found himself a new outfit before heading back up to Rose and her mother.

Even now, remembering the look of appreciation in Rose’s eyes when she beheld him in his new suit sent butterflies through his stomach.

The Doctor and Rose for the Defense!

AKA

“The Time the Doctor and Rose Helped Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Solve a Real Murder Case”

Based loosely off of this article

Prompt: “the Doctor introduces Rose to some amazing and famous historical figure she didn’t actually get to meet in canon”

Happy Holidays @promisedyouforever !

Made for @dwsecretsanta 2019 for @the-ripper-rides. (Whom I literally JUST figured out runs the darn thing AHHHHHHHH!) Sorry it’s late! I really do hope that it was worth the wait!

Before I get to the fic, let me explain a little why it’s late… So… Uh… Funny thing… All of the requests I got were pretty much Faction Paradox… And… Uh… I’ve never actually touched anything Faction Paradox before… If you know Doctor Who but not Faction Paradox… Yes. That is generally how things go. It’s a pretty obscure piece of Doctor Who deep lore… So… I… Kinda had to… Research a lot for this… I tried. I really did. I tried really hard to make this worthy of the Faction Paradox. So I’m very sorry if this isn’t what you were looking for…

The prompts I got that I tried to tackle were: “One (art) - Jareth (David Bowie in Labyrinth) reimagined as a Faction Paradox member. Two (art) - Peter Pan/Neverland redrawn with a Faction Paradox flair. After all, moving shadows are already a part of it. Four (fic) - Romana or Leela need to make contact with the Faction. It’s Christmas Eve when they do.

I was originally going to do art for this Secret Santa project, but quickly found that the level of detail required was more than my limited time and artistic skills could manage. (I DO still have those sketches for those two prompts if you want to see them!) So instead I decided to do prompt four. I mean… I already did the research! Might as well! I was originally going to include Justine and Eliza in the story, but that would have made this story even longer and I didn’t have any more ideas or story… So… Sorry about that!

So without further ado, the fic! It’s under the read more but can also be read here on AO3!

Warnings: Some violence. Some description of said violence. Nothing too extreme though.

Word Count: 7130

Characters: Romana II, Leela, Original Characters

Summary: Romana needs to go on a vacation. However before they get to their destination their ship crashes.

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor x Rose Tyler

Summary: After Rose and the Doctor agree not to exchange Christmas presents, the Doctor begins to doubt whether or not he should still get her something.

A/N: This is my super belated @dwsecretsanta gift for @elialys! My apologies. I was set to post this on Christmas Eve but technical difficulties *cough I lost my laptop charger cough* kept me from doing that. I hope you had a Merry Christmas and will have a Happy New Year <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or anything related.

Prompt: Tentoo struggling to find a gift for Rose and going to Jackie for help.

This story can also be found on fanfic, ao3, and teaspoon (when approved).

All for the lovely: @a-rose-by-any-other-doctor @dwsecretsanta

Welp, here’s the end. I hope You enjoyed it. Merry Christmas!

Read on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925084/chapters/52331086

Track 4: Remember

“I don’t live here,” Rose whispered in his ear as they entered the mansion. His eyebrows went up. “Only, you were looking a bit worried and I thought, ‘Oh, he’s forgotten and is afraid I live with Mum and he’s going to have to live with Mum and there are an awful lot of carpets here.’ Thought I’d remind you that I don’t live here.”

“Oh,” he breathed glancing down anxiously at the carpets. “Do you–”

“I’ve got hardwood floors.”

“That’s alright then,” he murmured as the tension drained out of him. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Liar.”

“Alright, I didn’t want to be homeless my first night in a new universe,” he murmured in her ear. His palm was a bit clammy where it gripped hers. “You know me and mums, they ah,” he trailed off, tugging an ear.

“Slap you?” Rose whispered back as Jackie turned to glare at them.

“Rose has a flat,” Jackie announced tersely. “But Tony hasn’t seen either of us in a week. He’s asleep by now,” she worried. “I don’t suppose there’s any real point in offering you your own room?” she asked the Doctor.

“Oh, I could kip anywhere, a sofa, a pool float, a low wall…” he began enthusiastically.

Rose shook her head. “I’ve got him. He’s fine, Mum.”

The new Doctor flashed her an interested look. “I don’t want to impose if it’s too soon, or you don’t want…If it’s too soon or weird or–” he stopped talking when Jackie cleared her throat. He stepped behind Rose. “I didn’t mean… we…” Helplessly, he kneaded her shoulders.

“We agreed to a fortnight in eyesight…” Rose remarked. “Your memory is terrible…”

“It’s not my memory,” the Doctor muttered as his eyes darted around.

“Still daft, is he?” Jackie asked with amusement.

Taking pity on him, Rose told her mother, “Leave him alone. We’re too tired for anything your dirty mind is going to imply, Mum. He’s new.”

“Mint condition,” he reminded her.

“Right, in mint condition,” she agreed and glared at her mother continued, “I want him kept in mint condition, ya hear me? No slapping.”

“I wasn’t implying anything, sweetheart. He hasn’t done anything to earn a slap…yet,” Jackie kissed his cheek and whispered something in his ear. The Doctor turned beet red. His expression was a mix of pleased and revolted as Jackie Tyler rolled her eyes at Rose.

Rose started walking. “Ignore her. You can meet Tony tomorrow and I’ll show you my, erm, flat,” Rose stumbled almost saying ‘our’ flat. She didn’t want to pressure him.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Your place would be better than Jackie’s place… Do I ah, need my own place? Nope, no, nevermind. Too soon to answer that one. With the talking and the reuniting and the sleeping and talking and–”

My @dwsecretsanta 2K19 Submission. @bowserbabe requested some Angsty Whouffaldi (Twelve/Clara) for the gift. I’m sorry that I’m not be able to make a Fanfic like you requested because I’m not a Writer. I’m almost abandoning this art because lack of motivation to make this art. (Yeah, Thanks Unus Annus for messing with my head.)

Anyway, Hope you enjoyed this fanart and as Malcolm Tucker says:

“Have a Merry Fucking Christmas.”

@dwsecretsanta gift for @gemvictorfromtheponyverse

Rating: G || Word Count: 1,053 

fic under the cut! 

All for the lovely: @a-rose-by-any-other-doctor @dwsecretsanta 

Read on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925084/chapters/52331086

Annoyed that he must help fund UNIT by schmoozing, the Fourth Doctor picks up a mysterious date by the side of the road.

Track 2: Guest

Rose’s eyes opened. Sitting up, she turned to view the Doctor’s dark eyes. He was blinking as the connection between them was severed by her quick movements. “Oh, that was,” the Doctor murmured.

“You kissed me!” Rose exclaimed, giggling. “It took you forever to kiss me the first time and that version of you did it in less than four hours.”

“Well, I was a bit of a flirt, in that incarnation.”

“In *that* incarnation?” Rose asked, brows arching.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “I’m not always… so…”

“What?”

“Interested in all that… romance… It’s unusual.” Awkwardly, the Doctor tugged on his ear, not bothering to get up from his position against the headboard. “Timelords aren’t… we don’t do romance. I mean they didn’t. I sometimes…”

Rose covered his mouth. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

The Doctor huffed warm breath against her hand. Rose snorted, removing her hand before he decided to lick her palm. His eyes twinkled with mischief as if he had been thinking of licking her palm and was a bit thwarted by her moving it away.

“Alright,” Rose said, turning around and laying back against him. “Ready for the next one?”

His fingers resumed their place against her temples. “Oh, erm, this one’s mine, I think, not yours… You may remember it already.”

“How do you know?” Rose asked, enjoying the closeness and the heat radiating from him as they basically cuddled. “Is there a note on it or something?”

“No, it feels like me, like a memory from the one with the scarf… Only way to find out is to open it up.” He wiggled his fingers, tickling her. She puffed out a breath in annoyance but she didn’t mean it. He ignored it anyhow, pressing until she felt his mind swirling around hers again, an excited feeling rushing through him as he whispered the next word on his list.

Rose felt irritation filling her up, plus a healthy dose of ego and her brain was almost flooded with thousands of lines of thought. The feeling was tamped down apologetically, as Rose temporarily became the Doctor on Earth somewhere in the early 80s? Or late 70s? The Doctor hadn’t been paying attention to the time ironically.

“Absolutely not! I’m a Timelord! Not some Cigarette Rep from Leeds,” the Doctor shouted.

Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart’s eyebrows quirked up, making his ridiculous mustache quiver like a particularly annoying rabbit. The Doctor stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly, wondering if shouting a bit more would help. It did, sometimes. Sheepish, he hunched his shoulders. “I won’t go,” he said petulantly. “Sarah’s not going. I have a working time machine now and I don’t work for you anymore, so there.”

“Doctor, this isn’t a sales summit. The top scientists are all meeting in London to mingle and garner money for various projects,” the brigadier said, tone patronizing and long-suffering.

The Doctor huffed.

“And as much as it pains me to say so with your enormous ego, you are the most intelligent scientist on Earth,” he continued as if the Doctor was not sulking. “I realize Miss Smith is unavailable since I was the one who sent her out to cover the story in Aberdeen. UNIT needs the backing. We’re seriously lacking in budget here.”

The Doctor had noticed the drop off in biscuit selection lately around the HQ. He didn’t like that one bit. And… he had nothing on. Just… waiting around to convince Sarah to take another jaunt into Time and Space. “Why should I care about money?” he demanded, determined not to give in easily. He couldn’t let the brigadier know he could be persuaded by biscuits. It was undignified.

“We both know you have nothing to do but wait for Miss Smith to come back…”

“Not true!” he shouted. (It was.) “Patently untrue!” he boomed. “Oh fine! Perhaps one of the scientists will be a megalomaniac. Worth a look, eh? Sh!” he put his finger against his lips to forestall the brigadier. “I want double the pay for this. Put it in Sarah’s account. She knows what I like. And I will drive myself.”

“Fine. But you’ll take a car. I don’t want you taking off in that box of yours and missing the meeting by several decades.”

“Fine,” the Doctor agreed, hand out for the invitation. “It’s a lovely day for a drive.” He beamed.

He stormed out of the office for good measure. Very soon he was going to cut ties with this place. His feet were itchy. Sarah’s were too. She was a good one for his life. Shame Harry would probably balk but not everyone was cut out for a nomadic lifestyle. Trailing his long multi-colored scarf behind him, he stalked out to his yellow roadster.

The road was empty as he cruised along muttering about all the planets he was going to show to Sarah Jane Smith. Clom, the Eye of Orion, Calibris, oh yes, a pirate planet would be a lovely trip! He needed some backup fluid links, the damned things were always evaporating on him. So wrapped up in his musings, he nearly hit the young woman who blinked into existence a foot in front of his car. The Doctor was a marvelous driver if he did say so himself, and managed to cut the wheel hard enough to avoid injuring her. He didn’t miss the ditch on the side of the road, however. Slamming the car into park, he stared. She had stumbled forward as if he had run straight into this dimension. The energy around her smelled like ozone and artron. Her timelines were an absolute labyrinth. He closed his timesenses before a migraine could set in. “Well, aren’t we a complicated event in space-time,” he exclaimed.

She turned to face him. Slight with blonde hair, her large eyes locked onto him and her generous mouth pulled up into a charmingly delightful devil-may-care grin. “Sort of, yeah,” she agreed with a laugh. “I’m looking for a friend.”

“Are you indeed?” the Doctor wondered aloud. “My friend is in Aberdeen.”

She snorted. She was dressed in clothes reminiscent of the 2000s with her dark, form-fitting trousers, pink top and indigo leather jacket. She had a utilitarian black backpack on and something about her stance reminded him of a dancer or a martial artist. “I’m not sure my friend knows the difference between Hyde Park and Aberdeen.”

What a curious creature! What a strange sentence to utter? He made a face, considering. “It looks as if we’re both short a friend for today. I suppose that means we should join forces. I’ve got to go to a boring event full of clever people who are alas, not as clever as me. Care to accompany me? I’ve been told there will be nibbles.” The Doctor extended the invitation in the hope of learning more about this curious creature. “Unless you’re part of the vanguard for an invasion fleet? No? Pity.”

Her grin tugged at his hearts. She came closer, examining his car. “Retro,” she commented, petting Bessie. He offered her a hand. She clasped it and allowed him to help her into the car. Her skin was warm, calloused and let him know she ran a bit hot and had enough artron energy inside her small form to power a Rutan ship for several months. A wash of comfort ran through him when she squeezed his fingers before releasing them.

Confused he focused on getting the car out of the ditch and back onto the road.

“I’m from London, originally,” she offered after a few minutes of open road. “This one I think, although it looks a bit…80’s right now.” She made a face and shrugged.

“I’m the Doctor,” he offered. “But I have a feeling you might know me, already.”

Her smile was enigmatic. “I suspected what with the scarf. You really love your layers, don’t you Doctor?” she asked and ran a hand down his scarf, giving it a playful tug.

“I’m not unfamiliar with the phenomena of meeting people before you’ve met them. I’m a time traveler after all,” the Doctor told her. “It’s practically in the brochure. Ah ha. And believe me, I’m sure I will enjoy making your acquaintance again in the future but until such time as time rights itself or rewrites itself, what shall I call you? It’s simply rude to keep addressing you in my head as young woman and out loud, even more so…”

“And you’re never rude,” she said solicitously and the Doctor got the distinct impression that this young woman was mocking him. “Sorry Doctor, you’re right. You can call me Rose, erm, Smith.”

“Smith?” the Doctor snorted. “That’s perfect. I often go by John Smith when I’m undercover.”

“S’good name, Smith. Had a few good friends named Smith in my time. Love the curls by the way.” Rose reached out a hand and looped one of his curls around her finger. The Doctor’s eyes widened in surprise. She winked. “We can pretend to be a couple. For your party…”

He fell silent. Rose stayed in his personal space, comfortable with him in a way that made him a bit uncomfortable in how not uncomfortable it was. Her presence seemed to sooth an ache in his hearts he wasn’t aware of having. Curious. “Is that what we are in the future? A couple?”

Rose’s expression was solemn. “You tell me, Doctor Smith.”

“Aaahhh, Mrs. Smith, you intrigue me,” he bantered back.

Silence reigned as the Doctor took them to the hotel on the invitation. Rose opened her bag, searching through it. She pulled out a simple black dress and a pair of basic kitten heels. She slipped her jacket off and tossed the dress on over her magenta top, then while his eyes tried to stay on the road, she removed the top leaving her in the dress and trousers. She settled the black fabric into place and shucked the trousers.

“Stockings,” he said.

“Right,” Rose said and pulled a nude pair out of her back. She shimmied into them and had her shoes on in seconds. Her hair was up in a loose chignon by the time they reached the valet. Her eyes which were the most delicate shade of amber with flecks of green and gold twinkled when he hopped out and offered her a hand down. She left her bag in the car.

They approached the lobby and the Doctor brandished his invitation. “Doctor, and Mrs. Smith, UNIT.” The man barely glanced at the invitation before letting them inside. His eyes had been glued to Rose’s assets. Rose rolled her eyes and hooked an arm through his. The Doctor felt a frizzle of anger toward the man who let them in. Rose squeezed his bicep.

“Dimensional traveler, who has a bag full of occasional wear, Rose Smith, I think I’ve married well.” he teased.

Rose’s eyes were on the swirl of people. Many were dressed in dresses similar to hers. The men wore suits and some had the nerve to wear bowties! The Doctor wasn’t interested in changing his frock for the brigadier’s stuffy friends. She grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and offered him one. “Is it Christmas?” Rose asked.

“Near enough, it’s the thirteenth of December,” the Doctor replied then spotted a familiar face. “Harry! Over here.”

Harry Sullivan waved. Rose’s eyes sparkled with interest as the naval doctor extricated himself from a conversation with a few men in ill-fitting suits to approach them. “Doctor, old boy, how did the brigadier convince you to come to this convention of stuffed shirts?”

“Nibbles,” Rose exclaimed and pointed, her accent becoming a bit more London as she went on, “He told you there would be nibbles and you couldn’t resist, c’mon, admit it, Doctor!” She sipped her champagne, giggling. He arched his brows at her.

“She’s got you there, old boy,” Harry said giving Rose a once over, no doubt wondering where Sarah was. The trio had been inseparable lately. “And you are?”

“Harry Sullivan, this is Rose. She’s not local.”

“Shows what you know, mate. My job is going to be built down the street from here in a few years,” she whispered.

“Oh, oh,” Harry remarked stupidly. “Charmed.”

Rose grinned and let Harry take her hand and kiss the knuckles. “You’re adorable.”

“Rose,” he grumbled and just like that Rose slipped her arm back through his.

Harry looked between the Doctor and Rose. “No hope of an invasion tonight, is there?”

The Doctor scanned the crowd. There were a few Zygons pretending to be scientists but nothing too sinister. “No,” he said in his most dolorous tone.

“Well then, I’m going to mingle, eh? Get those UNIT coffers filled. Nice to meet you, Rose. Doctor, don’t go anywhen without me.” He winked.

The Doctor perked up. “Oh no, of course not Harry.”

“I’ll see you when the old girl gets back?” he asked.

Positively giddy at the prospect of Harry traveling with them, the Doctor bobbed his head. “If she hears you calling her that, you may never get the chance to travel with us.”

Harry laughed and swirled away into the crowd. He was immediately absorbed into a large group of scientists and doctors. Rose had grabbed gingerbread man off a tray and bit its head off. The scent of ginger made him a bit lightheaded. She offered him a bite and smirked.

They socialized. Rose was knowledgeable, friendly, and talked pennies out of pockets like an heiress. The Doctor was broiling with curiosity. Her skin was flushed a bit with drink. Her giggling was louder and more adorable now. She kept offering him ginger laced things. They ate at Harry’s table and he regaled Rose with stories from the navy and in low tones about how he met the Doctor. Rose whispered something to him that made Harry nod enthusiastically and whisper back something that had Rose in stitches. Jealousy wormed around in his stomach. It was a foreign emotion. He shook his head to clear it and snapped at an archeologist.

Rose’s hand slipped into his under the table. The beast within was soothed. The Doctor’s confusion grew. Rose offered him a smile with her tongue caught between her teeth and his hearts raced. Confused, he glanced away from her and tried to open his senses to her again. The timelines were a mangled nightmare around her. Some of the lines snapped and snarled back. Dizziness crept up his spine. Rose pinched him. “Not here. You’ll get a headache.”

He nodded. She offered him a piece of spice cake. Rose smirked. He could smell the ginger in it. The conversation flowed around them so he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “why are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I want to dance,” Rose said offered, her eyes too bright. “I thought… you might if you were a bit… stupid. Sorry. S’just, I know you’re not the right You for me but you’re still You and I missed this.” A glimpse of pain and sadness appeared in those fathomless amber eyes before the flecks swirled and Rose was smiling again. “Stupid.”

“I’m an excellent dancer,” he offered.

“I’ve never seen you dance,” Harry said in surprise. “I haven’t! Mind you, I have seen him jump rope in a harlequin costume so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Rose’s laugh was genuine. The Doctor beamed. He swiped a gingerbread man off a biscuit tray and nibbled on an arm. “On Sarton X the people are made of shoganals. Eating gingerbread there is tantamount to cannibalism.”

A fond look crossed Rose’s features. The warmth of it spread from her to him. The music kicked up. They stood. The Doctor offered her his arm and Rose came to him. They drifted out to the dance floor. Swaying gently to the music, the ginger increased the warmth he was feeling as the human woman in his arms acted as if she belonged there.

“How long have you been looking for me, Rose?” he asked.

“All my life,” she teased, side-stepping the question. “Really Doctor, you know better than to ask about your future.”

“How about now? How long are you staying here?” he asked. “In this time or dimension?”

Rose leaned against him, her head against his chest. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was smelling him. “Two hours left, then I try again tomorrow to find you.”

“You’ve found me. I’m right here.” the Doctor said practically. “I can take you to me.”

Rose’s eyes lit up then faded. “I’m sure you would tell me that I can’t mess with your timeline. I could change things so that we never meet.”

“Pfaw, I would never,” he grumbled, knowing she was right. “The risk is slight. My Tardis could take you to his Tardis.”

“I’d end up in Aberdeen,” she muttered. “No. I have to find the right you, in the right time. What if this dimension is the wrong one? I can’t take the risk.” Rose was so close that they were hugging more than dancing.

“Nonsense, dimensional travel is as simple as setting the stabilizers… As long as those idiots on Gallifrey don’t decide to detour us, we could be there in minutes, seconds. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve met myself…”

Rose didn’t respond. She just let him move her around the floor.

“Who are you to me?” the Doctor asked in a hushed tone.

She shrugged. “Can’t we just enjoy the party?”

They ended up on the roof. Rose had retrieved her bag from the car. He would be going back to UNIT alone. She had a few minutes left. He watched her. “I barely know you and I can’t help wanting to keep you here,” he confessed.

Rose was wearing his scarf. She’d had to loop it around her neck several times and it still trailed on the ground. “Oh, you’ll be alright. Sarah Jane will take care of you.”

“Sarah’s my best friend,” the Doctor said warmly even though he had barely thought about her after picking up Rose. Now the image of Sarah in his scarf superimposed itself over Rose and he felt a pang of annoyance with himself.

“Oh, I know,” Rose replied with a knowing smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Doctor asked, reaching for her. “Tell me something about you…”

She glanced at her watch. “Oh, what the hell! I’ve still got a minute to go.” Rose dove into his arms. Rising up on tiptoes, she pressed warm lips against his. Surprised, he wrapped his long arms around her, practically lifting her up so she could continue kissing him. The pleasant warmth he’d been feeling all night exploded into a confusing array of emotions and feelings. Her lips were smooth, soft, and hot against his cooler ones. The taste of ginger hit him and the crisp bite of the champagne as she deepened the kiss, her fingers sliding into his curls to ravage them. Hearts racing, he hadn’t expected a kiss to unsettled him.

She let go just as his respiratory bypass kicked in. Laughing, she unlooped the scarf and wrapped it back around him. Her cheeks were a delightful pink, lips swollen and eyes practically glowing golden. “That’s all you need to know about me,” she said.

“That good?”

“It’s gonna be fantastic.”

Calling @megabadbunny!!  ‘Tis your @dwsecretsanta, erm, Santa!

EDITED TO ADD:  I forgot to mention this!  I have a larger version of both images I will gladly send you, since tumblr only takes up to 1280px wide.

One of your prompts was NinexRose and fake marriage.  And, welllll… this happened.  I’m not sure about the painting, but I hope you like it! (I usually take more time and of course all I can see is every little thing wrong with it and urk, nerves!)  As it needs some ‘splaining, here’s a silly and horrendously schmoopy Blurb of Explanation for which I really have no excuse but Regret Nothing ™. ;)

~~~~

Fake…?

He’d only wanted to show her Stonehenge.  Really, not a major destination, just a bit of a side trip.  And not the ancient, crumbling relic from her time – what would be the fun in that?  No, he wanted her to see it in its full glory.

Not in the past, of course – nothing dangerous.  No, he only wanted to take Rose forward to the Wiltshire of the Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire, where she could see the henge fully restored, as if it were brand new.  Of course, that lot had gotten the history of the place completely wrong, but it was nothing he couldn’t correct.

At least they were in the right place…

As soon as he checked the console, he knew their landing was off timewise by at least a few centuries.  But Rose’s curiosity had gotten the better of him – after she’d finished laughing.  

When had it happened? Exactly when had her wish truly become his command?

He was a doomed man. Doomed, a word he’d not dared even think – love, for Rassilon’s sake – roaming his brain freely.  He just wasn’t going to say it aloud.  He’d resolved a good while back (had he really been in love with her that long?) that she would never know.  She didn’t, couldn’t possibly love him in return.

But facts were facts, he could not say no to her, and the two of them ventured hand in hand out into the verdant countryside, wide open and beautiful and unspoiled, at a time very far in her future.

Apparently it was just not far enough, not nearly far enough to avoid, avoid –

this.

It was Earth’s Third Great Dark Age, and they’d plunged themselves into the middle of it. Which would not have been so bad, had they not been inside the henge and holding hands when the caravan of Queen Scary Spice VI had made its presence known by halting abruptly alongside them.

Explanations were demanded and heated words exchanged, and What Is the Meaning of Such Conduct?! Intimate contact, and inside the henge, no less.  Disgraceful!

The Queen Herself had asked him only one thing. “Give us one reason, ‘Doctor’,” she commanded, actually peering down her nose at him, “that you should not be summarily separated from your head.”

Beside him there was a sharp intake of breath, and then, like a fizzy drink shaken once too often, Rose exploded, blurting out, “But we’re engaged!”

What?

As it turned out, impromptu marriage right there, on the spot, was a fairly easy choice over decapitation.  Even if if didn’t really mean anything; even though he didn’t do domestic; even if he knew Rose was only agreeing to save his life; even if it was all a bit of clever acting from the woman he… well.  Even.

Rose was whisked away in a sudden flurry of activity and pulled into the largest carriage.  Except the Queen, every woman in the caravan (there turned out to be several) followed after her, shooing men away as they went, ready to help prepare her for her wedding.

They kept him waiting for two hours (and apparently all he had to do was take off his jacket), but when she emerged, his mind went blank and he had to remember how to breathe.

He’d beheld nebulae forming, borne witness to the births of entire galaxies… but when she caught his eyes and gave him a shy smile, Rose was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Halfway through a strange mishmash of vows that included references to “the Dot Com Most High” and “His Holiness of Microsoft,” she promised to love him.

Rose promised to love him.  Him.  And she was not pretending at all.

She was not pretending, and neither was he.  By the time the priest had finished the handfasting ritual, she was his wife, with a handwritten Decree of Marriage bearing the royal seal.

On the walk back to the Tardis, his left hand still bound to her right, they laughed and talked and read the decree and discovered it was Christmas Day.

For @sircarolyn

Here’s my entry for the @dwsecretsanta ! My giftee was @melacka, who included Ten and Donna (brOTP) among the list of preferred characters. And since I’ve never drawn Donna before, this seemed like a good opportunity :^) 

@a-rose-by-any-other-doctor @dwsecretsanta

Read on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925084/chapters/52331086

Happy Christmas Eve! I spent it working. Now I plan on spending tonight fic-writing/editing. 

Rose meets the Eighth Doctor while Dimension Hopping

Track 1: Prisoner

The word echoed through Rose’s thoughts and it became smoke drifting through her mind. The scent of tea and books and dry air solidified into the twitchy push of the dimension cannon. She could still feel the Doctor’s body cushioning her. She was still prone. She was also quite suddenly lurching into another world.

Rose stumbled to a stop. Breathing in through her nose and out through her nose, until the queasiness passed, she settled into her new surroundings. Flipping on her mike, she announced, “Control, I made it. I’m alright.”

Pete Tyler’s voice was tinny in her earpiece like he inhaled helium. “Where are you? London again?”

Rose stared at the lime green sky and the purple mountains. A rush of excitement set her heart racing. Eagerly, she hopped from foot to foot. “No, s’not Earth.”

“Impossible. The cannon isn’t set to send you off-world, Rose. It’s got to be Earth,” Pete argued.

“Yeah, it’s definitely not Earth, unless it’s far off the prime universe. There’s no sign of human habitations. S’just rocks, orangey purple grass, and a bright green sky. How long have I got, control?”

“Your mother’s going to kill me if she finds out you’re on another planet–Four hours, Rose.”

Disappointed, she argued, “that’s hardly enough time to do anything, Pete.”

“Control, Rose, address me as control. And you know how this works. Just maybe be a bit more cautious this time, alright? For me?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Right. See you in a few hours. I’m going to see if anyone’s home. Out.”

Rose had been hopping dimensions for weeks now. She was always on Earth and always in London. Some of them had been a bit scary and weird but always recognizable as home, almost home. Walking along the grass, she felt a bit lighter. “Different gravity?” she muttered. “This is going to be a helluva debrief.”

She wandered closer to the rocks. What she had mistaken for shadows were deep caves. The air smelled like diesel fuel drenched in lentils. She sneezed a dozen times getting used to the funky air until she smelled something else. Rose closed her eyes against the breeze. There was a hint of something familiar there. Rose wasn’t sure what to make of it. The scent tickled her senses. Rose was drawn in that direction. The scent thickened. It was tea! Good old English tea! On an alien world? Rose’s heart skipped. It could be a colony from earth hidden behind a perception field or an alien plant that smelled like it, or… Her heart skipped a beat.

“Anyone out here? Olly Olly oxen free!” she shouted.

“Hello?” a voice called, wispy, dry, and definitely masculine.

Rose froze. “Hello?” she called back. “I’m a friend. I won’t hurt ya.”

“I should hope not if you’re a friend,” the voice called back, stronger this time. The accent was English. “What sort of a friend hurts a body?”

“Not a very good one, I reckon.” Rose searched, unable to see him.

“Here!”

Rose shivered in the warm air. “Where?”

“Here,” he called again. “If you can see the mountain with all the caves in it. I am in the one farthest left on the bottom. Hurry up. I’ve been in here for ages and I’m terribly bored. I don’t suppose you’ve brought a deck of cards with you? Or another pot of tea? I’ve only got the gritty bit of wet leaves at the bottom now.”

Rose beamed. She didn’t know that voice. It wasn’t her Doctor, and yet… The closer she got to the mountain the more the caves looked less like natural pockets and more like jail cells. “How did you get locked up here?” Rose asked approaching the caves on the left. She thought she could see the shadow of a person at the end.

“Oh, you know, manners,” he said airily. “Hold the wrong fork in the wrong hand during the dessert course and end up accidentally toppling a regime or two or twenty. I had words with their high priest about the state of their people while using the fish fork on the cake. Great insult…or something. Took a nasty knock to my head for my troubles. It’s made today a bit… Hm, well, I suppose it’s made today hazy. I remember the cake was delicious. Tasted like cranberries and a sort of not chocolate. I had seconds!”

Rose snorted. She could see him now. Leaning against the bars of his cell, was a man with curly brown hair. A brilliant smile lit up his handsome face as he spotted her. “Hello.”

Rose stalled out. The familiar scent of tea was coming from him as suspected but along with that, there was a distinctive scent of Tardis. Rose dragged her hand along the bars evaluating him. “Dressed in crazy clothing, locked up for bad manners, rambles on to strangers, smells like home…Two helpings of dessert. You must be the Doctor!”

“You’ve heard of me, I’m flattered. Also, vaguely insulted.” He leaned forward treating her to bright blue eyes, not the same shade as her first Doctor, more like the ocean. “Whose home do I smell like, I wonder? You’re a curious young woman. I feel… wait, you haven’t just heard of me. You *know* me.” The Doctor hummed in a heartbreakingly familiar way. Rose just wanted to snog that puzzled look off of his face. “Or do I know you? No! No, no, I see! I WILL know you. Is that correct? Oh, I always enjoy meeting people out of turn. Gives me the edge at parties.”

Rose’s face was going to crack from the smiling. “I don’t know what to tell you, Doctor. I don’t want to cause a paradox.”

Delighted, he reached through the bars to shake her hand. “Oh, anything, everything. My people have a way of locking troublesome memories away until needed. You needn’t worry about that. Besides, Romana has a platoon of Timelords who just sit around all day monitoring me to make sure I don’t accidentally restart the Big Bang… again.” He made a face.

Rose broke into hysterical giggles. Covering her mouth, she turned away to contain her tears. Here he was! She’d found him. Her lovely, ridiculous Doctor, only not. If the Timelords were still alive, then Rose was much too early. She sniffed.

“Don’t be upset, please, I couldn’t bear it.” he crooned.

Rose’s eyes prickled. She gave him a watery smile. “I’m too early.”

His long face fell. “No, no crying! Please, no it’s alright if you’re early. Early is better than late! Perfect timing from where I sit.”

Rose nodded. The Doctor was right. At least she wasn’t too late. There was still time to stop the stars from going out. Plus, here was a rare glimpse at the Doctor before the war. Steeling herself, she met his not-the-right-shade-of-blue eyes.

He stared at her, gaze unfocusing a bit, “Come on Rose Tyler, you’ve found me. Chances are you’ll find me again later… I think. Yes, later before on time,” he blinked, focusing on her face, and said with a laugh, “Listen to me, I’m speaking nonsense.”

“Yeah, that’s–” Rose stopped short of saying, ‘normal for you.’ It wasn’t exactly. “No, hang on, did you just call me Rose Tyler?”

“Did I?” He was the picture of innocence.

“I never told you my name…”

He stared at her, winked.

“Where’s the Tardis?” Rose asked, changing tack.

“Um, on the moon? I think.” His puzzled face filled her with warmth, the same man, same confused expression.

Rose’s heart ached and the urge to kiss him increased. Rose squeezed the bars to resist leaning closer. The Doctor’s eyes dipped from her eyes to her lips before flicking back up to her face. He licked his lips. “Can you–”

“Hm?” Rose liked this Doctor’s lips. She wondered idly if she could get him to pout.

“Let me out?” he rumbled, voice low. “Oh, oh! Yeah, yep,” Rose remarked unable to stop an embarrassing chuckle from escaping her. She glanced away and felt his cool hand grip hers around the bar. Rose’s eyes snapped back to his. He smirked. Rose rolled her eyes. He squeezed her hand and used his index finger to point. “There’s a keypad.”

Recessed into the rock, she found the keypad. The symbols on it were like runes with funny hats. “Don’t suppose you know the code, Doctor?”

“Alas, no. I woke up in here nursing a head wound. I’ve got a knot.” He touched the top of his head, wincing. “Still, there are only 10,000 possible combinations. Can’t take more than a few days to work out.”

“I’ve got less than four hours. Don’t suppose you have a sonic screwdriver handy?”

“Sonic screwdriver,” he muttered patting his pockets. “Yes! I have!”

Rose bit down another giggle. The way he bounced around like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was a big outer space puppy in a velvet frock coat, ridiculous. He handed over the sonic, taking the time to run his hand against hers. Rose mock glared at him. His expression was all innocence and light. Rose focused on the screwdriver, hiding her smirk. The metallic tube was a comfortable weight in her palm. The settings were the same. The casing different than she was used to with its weird circular end and red center bit.

“Setting 221, I think. Point and press the button,” he encouraged.

The gate buzzed and popped open. The Doctor raced out of the cave and lifted her up. Rose squealed as he spun her in a circle, laughing. Rose kicked her feet merrily and he dropped her to the ground. The gravity was definitely lighter than Earth, Rose practically bounced after touching down. The Doctor took his sonic back, flipped it and made it vanish into an inner pocket.

“My hero,” the Doctor said. “What was your name?”

“You said it earlier,” Rose pointed back to the cave, “when you were in there. Don’t you remember?”

“I…did? Was it a spooky premonition moment? I can’t really hold onto that information. It’s just whoosh,” the Doctor shrugged.

“Rose,” Rose said and shoved her hands into his lovely cinnamon locks. The Doctor looked like he was going to protest before letting out a pleased noise. Rose gently touched his scalp until she reached the edges of the knot. He winced. He didn’t pull away. Rose rewarded him by gently massaging the scalp near the injury before letting go. His eyes were closed. They opened slowly when he realized she’d stopped. Rose couldn’t help grinning at him. “I-ah, I think you have a concussion.”

“You’ll have to mind me then.” He stared at her, amused. “At least for the next three hours and twenty minutes. For safety.”

“For safety?”

“Mm,” he agreed. “I need a chaperone back to my Tardis. You have the time. You’ve said as much. Will you take me home, Rose?”

“Did you just–No, nevermind.” Rose shook her head, cheeks hot. “Yeah, you definitely need a chaperone. C’mon Doctor, let’s get you to the Tardis.” She reached out her right hand and wiggled her fingers.

He entangled their fingers, swinging their joined hands. “How do you propose getting me to my Tardis? Do you have a ship?” the Doctor asked, glancing up.

Rose followed his gaze. The sun, a pale mint green in the lime green sky was sinking fast. Just above the horizon, the moon was peeping out. “No ship,” she sang out. “No transmat. No vortex manipulator…”

“I should think not, those things are a disaster for the vortex. Causing all sorts of holes and potholes… dirty method of travel. Cheap.” The Doctor grumbled. “I once got my Tardis trapped in one of their holes, nearly fell out of the vortex into E Space. Messy, stupid people movers. I shouldn’t wonder if it’s the reason she never goes where I want her to go.” Tugging her along behind him, the Doctor took off at a brisk pace away from the mountains. “We’ll do what the locals do, we’ll hitch a lift at the way station.”

Rose let him drag her along, enjoying the feel of the Doctor’s hand in hers. The scent of him was overpowering the naturally occurring scent of lentils. Which reminded her… “Why does this planet smell like lentils?”

The Doctor was brought up short. “You know you’re right! It does reek of lentil soup. I suppose it’s the natural odor of the place. No wonder everyone works on the moon. It smells pleasantly of pine. How did you get here if you have no obvious means of travel? Astral projection? Apparate?”

“Still with the Harry Potter references, then,” Rose snorted. “You’re going to make yourself forget this, yeah?” He nodded curls bouncing enthusiastically. “I have this, well back home there’s this sort of cannon. It tosses me into dimensions.” Rose pulled the device from around her neck. “Needs a few hours to charge. Each place I land it gives me a bit of time before I’m pulled back to where I came from.” “Hm,” he remarked and resumed dragging her along, next to him this time. “What’s wrong with Harry Potter? No, hang on, you said ‘back where you came from.’”

Rose bit her lip. “Did I?”

“Yes, back where you came from, not home. Where are you from, Rose Tyler? Your accent says London. The artron energy around you says time travel and you said I smell like home. You’re one of my companions! Yes, you are, you travel with me. And wherever you go back to isn’t where you’re from.” The Doctor beamed.

“I’m sort of, well, until recently I was trapped there.”

“And you’re looking for me because you want to go home? I can take you anywhen, anywhere in the universe. Let me take you home.” He offered blue eyes twinkling.

They climbed a hill. Below them, a futuristic city was laid out. The homes were bright white with yellow windows. Domes covered little areas of purple foliage. In the center of town was a tower with a large arrow pointing up. “See? There’s the town of Cahoots, funny name I know but that’s not what it means in their language. It means pizza.”

“Making that up,” Rose accused.

He winked. Rose’s heart threw itself at him, only stopped by the bones of her ribcage. He squeezed her fingers and caressed the inside of her wrist. “Maybe. But if we go to that tall building there, we can get sent up to the moon. Shouldn’t take us long to walk there. Am I doing alright? No slurring?”

“No slurring,” Rose remarked after a pause. “How’s your vision?”

He stared at her face. “My view is lovely. I’m almost disappointed I’m not seeing double.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “You’re awful.”

“I really am. It’s the lack of tea. Can’t go so long without it.” The Doctor led her into town.

By the time they reached the tower, Rose’s watch beeped. “Oh, my time’s almost up.”

“Oh no, and we were just getting to know one another.” The Doctor pouted. “Sure you wouldn’t like a lift home in the Tardis? She can go to whatever dimension you choose.”

Her heart dropped. Could she? Could she just take a lift with this Doctor to the other? “If something big happened, what would the Timelords do to protect the universe from it?”

“Easy, they’d timelock it. No one in, no one out. They’ve never had cause to use an expansive one. Just a solar system here and there. The people inside go on as if nothing happened… Rose? What happens in my future that is so big?”

“You get to kiss me.”

Distracted, the Doctor turned a delightful shade of pink. “I–yes, well, erm that’s something to look forward to…” he stammered, catching her free hand so he could hold both between them. “Rose… tell me…”

“I can’t take the risk,” Rose whispered. “It’s too important that your future stays intact.”

“Rose,” he scoffed.

“No, it’s too important.”

The pink in his cheeks intensified to an almost brick red. “Oh,” he drawled, swinging their hands, “I suppose we will meet again soon since I am who you’re looking for after all.”

“Are you?” Rose raised her eyebrows.

“I should hope so. I’d be disappointed if you were searching for someone else.”

Rose looked into his blue eyes. He tugged her to him. Rose went willingly. The Doctor pulled her into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. There was so much he was going to go through soon. Rose tried to fill him with as much of her warmth as she could. He responded, tightening her grasp.

He pulled back when her watch beeped again. “How long?”

“Ten seconds,” Rose whispered.

anyway, I present: SJ/Jo, and some fluffy nonsense! hope you enjoy <3

—

It all began after the Doctor’s ‘funeral’. Jo had dashed away, waving and grinning, and Sarah had thought they would never meet again. That thought disappointed her far more than it ought to have, so she pushed it away. That wasn’t too hard when all the shenanigans that came with living on Bannerman Road distracted her, which they so often did. Usually, they didn’t allow for much else at all, so she half-forgot about Jo and their meeting.

And that was how it stayed, until she started getting postcards.

Dear Sarah, the first one read, hope you haven’t moved, but I suppose you and I aren’t alike in that way. I’ve been having such funny dreams since the Doctor, of him, and of you in your attic. If it were easier, I’d suggest a visit, but I’ve just found the first way to send post in weeks, which is what gave me the idea to write. 

The card continued with a story about some of Jo’s adventures in the jungle, how she had camped in treetops and seen more stars than she ever had before, maybe even more than when she and the Doctor had been to Observista, a planet that claimed it had the best stargazing in the galaxy. Then, in tiny letters at the bottom, clearly added as an afterthought, Jo had given a return address for the next place she planned to be.

Sarah had smiled as she’d read it, not finding it at all hard to imagine Jo getting herself into scrapes. Straight away, Sarah had sat down to write a reply, feeling like the return address was going to have an expiry date, but she found she couldn’t formulate the right words. Which was frustrating, seeing as words were what she had built her career on. But writing reports about strange goings-on in schools, or about plots by crazy conspiracy theorists was easy compared to writing about herself, her own thoughts and feelings, her own adventures.

Not only that, but her subconscious kept replaying their meeting. Jo had been popping up in her dreams more and more and she had started to haunt Sarah’s waking thoughts too. The more she tried to stop thinking about Jo, the harder she found it to stop having wild fantasies about a life that neither of them were ever likely to live?

Eventually, she forced any fanciful notions away and wrote a generic reply, one that skirted around any real feelings by focussing on her alien encounter of the week. The most recent one had been some sort of giant space eel in the nearby river that the Ealing Echo had dubbed ‘the Loch Ness Monster of West London’ which had made Sarah laugh out loud. Feeling like she owed Jo some context for why this was funny, the letter expanded to include the story of the Zygons. She physically had to put her pen down before the urge to write more stories of the Doctor overcame her and she never stopped. She had never really told anyone some of those stories, not really, and the chances were that Jo was one of the few people in the whole world who might not get bored of those kinds of stories.

After it was posted, she didn’t quite forget about it, but compared to the invasion of the robotic mice that nearly happened the next day, it felt slightly less important. That, and she wasn’t really expecting another reply. Jo was out there, having her own adventures. She probably didn’t have the time or permanence to be writing letters to another old woman in London.

Little did Sarah know, that was exactly what Jo thought too.

And so the letters did continue, despite the lives that tried so hard to get in the way of finding time to write.

And, as they continued to write, they grew closer. Sarah found, quite against her will, that she wanted to tell Jo stories that she had never ever told out loud, tell her things that she hadn’t even been able to commit to the pages of her diary. For the first time in years, she thought about how she had felt when she’d been left in Aberdeen, how she’d really felt when she’d got home to Aunt Lavinia, at last. She had sat down and she had realised that this was it. This was it, now, forever, trapped here on Earth for the rest of her life. She hadn’t cried. She’d phoned up the magazine she’d last written for and thrown herself back into her work.

She’d never really stopped. Neither had Jo, she found out. It seemed like that was what travelling with the Doctor did to you if you ended up back on Earth. You kept yourself busy any way you could. Distracting yourself until he came back, because you could never quite accept that he never was.

Sometimes, Sarah looked at Jo’s adventures all over the world and felt a yearning for that lifestyle of travel again. How Jo had had children, really given birth to children and kept fighting for people, Sarah would never know. It filled her with such admiration. It reminded Sarah of her own years investigating, when she’d uncovered dirty secrets and really made a difference. Somewhere, on a video in a drawer, she still had the recordings of her TV show. She’d meant to find it to show Luke and say “Look! I used to be so well-known people recognised me on the street!”

She felt the urge to show Jo.

Luke found her rooting around in the living room, cursing her past self for not organising any of this crap better. He had asked her what she was looking for and for reasons she didn’t fully understand she felt a rush of embarrassment hit her, making her clench her fists to try not to show how caught out she felt. She was relatively sure that he had started to piece together what was starting to happen with her and Jo – he might not have been terribly good at emotions, but he was intelligent enough to recognise Jo’s writing.

She was just glad he was honest enough not to snoop about, trying to find and read them. Even though she had known it was wrong, even though she had read some things she wished she hadn’t, still she had sometimes gone hunting for some of the correspondences Aunt Lavinia received so she could read them. At least being nosy was useful in her job.

The day after she had given Luke the videos, another letter came. She was working on a piece for the Echo, mostly to give her something to do. Luke tapped on the attic door, tentative in case he was interrupting her. She was glad of the distraction.

Darling Sarah, it read, and Sarah added it to her mental list of dearests and darlings that had been accumulating. She caught herself thinking about them more often that she thought she ought to, but the happy rush they gave her was addictive.

Jo was off to America again, preparing to join in half a dozen marches for all sorts of causes across the country. She was effectively going to hitchhike across the continent, then she was coming back and walking across Europe in protest of half a dozen other things. She wrote with such eloquence, such passion about the environment, about human rights, about all these things she cared so much about. Sarah wondered if she had the same passion in her own words. She wondered if she had ever cared about anything so strongly as Jo did.

A flicker of fear grabbed her thoughts, not for the first time. Was Jo only writing to her because she was the only one who understood the loneliness the Doctor left you with? Was she taking the affection Jo was giving her, and extrapolating it beyond what it was? Most likely she was. After all, Jo had called everyone darling and babe, hadn’t she?

Sarah sighed and put the letter in the drawer she had set aside specially for that purpose. She needed more friends. She needed to get Jo Grant out of her head.

—

Sarah was dreaming about the Doctor again. Why had he given himself such a young face, and a ridiculous suit? Even in the dream she knew that was a silly question. She remembered when he’d regenerated into that mop-haired lunatic, when he’d been her Doctor. Had it been more of a shock for Jo, to see a young Doctor when the one she’d known all those years ago had seemed so old? It had broken her heart to hear Jo say the exact words she had thought herself: <i>I’ve waited my whole silly life. </i>

And he had never gone back for Jo. Even in the dream, the guilt hit her. Why had the Doctor crossed her path again, but not Jo’s? She was no more special than Jo – if anything, Jo did more than she did.

All these questions melted away as the dreamscape changed, taking her away from that orange planet and into that room, the exploding memory weave, the coffin…

She always ended up in the coffin again. Maybe that was morbid, but all she ever imagined was how it felt to hold Jo in fear that this plan wasn’t going to work and that she was, in a fit of irony, going to die there. She remembered how Jo had pressed close to her in the darkness, just them and nothing else. Fear hadn’t been the only thing she’d been thinking. Only in dreams did she really allow herself to dwell on the idea of holding Jo close.

Dream Jo curled into Dream Sarah’s arms. Somehow, they weren’t trapped in the dark any more. Instead, the whole world had expanded for them, them against the Shansheeth who were still thumping on the Tardis door, knocking and knocking as if she would ever let creatures like them in.

As conscious reality faded back in, the knocking on the door got more insistent. The clock was flashing a number at her and she tried to force her bleary eyes to focus. 04:03. Sarah’s mind jumped to aliens, then to worrying about Luke, and then the rational part of her brain woke up, and asked “If it’s malevolent aliens, why would they knock on the door?”

Still, she crept down the stairs, glancing to the umbrella stand to make sure her cricket bat was still there. She’d been called paranoid for having that, and for less, but she knew from experience that sometime paranoia saved your life. She took a breath, undid the latch, and peered around the door, only opening it a fraction in case it was something unwanted after all.

The sight of Jo standing there with a suitcase was more of a surprise than any alien could have been.

“I am so sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night – did I wake you up, darling? I’m so sorry for not writing ahead or coming at a better time, but I was just in Paris, and I thought to myself, I really ought to go to London to visit Sarah Jane, so I got on a night bus, just on a whim really, and here I ended up. How are you?”

Sarah blinked and opened the door properly. “Come in. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Jo wheeled her bag in and stared up at the celling. “I’d forgotten what a beautiful house you have! Where should I put this?” she asked, gesturing to her things. Sarah shrugged. Her brain was still not online enough to deal with this properly. Desperately, she was trying not to think about the dreams she’d been having all week and not really succeeding now Jo was here, really here. She was just glad the dream she had been having hadn’t gone any further. The shame of that might just have killed her.

“Just leave it there,” she mumbled, gesturing for Jo to follow her to the kitchen. “I thought you were going to Spain?” Sarah filled the kettle and found two mugs in the cupboard while Jo peered around, looking at all the trinkets that were scattered around as she took a seat at the table. Thank goodness Luke had done some tidying yesterday. Sarah put three spoons of instant coffee in her cup. “What do you want?”

Jo rummaged in her handbag, humming as she searched for the bag of tea she pulled out. “Two scoops, please. I was going to Spain, but, well, you know how plans are – they change.”

Sarah just hummed in agreement. She sat across from Jo and blew on her coffee. The sooner she had some caffeine in her system, the better. “Are you going to stay long?” she asked, and winced as she realised how the question sounded.

“You know how plans are. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

“I’d like you to stay.”

“Good.” Jo smiled broadly, the fact that it was four in the morning not seeming to affect her in the slightest. “How are you, darling?”

Biting back the urge to say ‘tired’, Sarah chose to say “Quiet,” instead. “We had that big infestation last month, but since then, not a lot. Last week we had a stray Wandering Spacetail – they’re like these big seagulls, but their wings glow iridescent, and they seem to leave this trail behind them, which is actually these little microbes that help them go in the right direction in space. I was only glad she turned up in my garden rather than anywhere else.”

“I can’t believe you’ve just kept doing what we always used to do! Helping these aliens from your attic! It almost makes my travels seem silly.”

“Don’t say that. You know, it’s funny, because I’ve been reading your letters and your stories, and the exact same thought has occurred to me: ‘she’s out there making a real difference in the world, helping people, and look at me! I’m a crazy old woman who hunts aliens!’”

Jo reached across to take Sarah’s hand. “Look at us! Aren’t we both daft? What did that Doctor do to us?”

“He made us care,” said Sarah softly. She was aware that the noise filling her head was her own heartbeat, racing as she traced all the lines of Jo’s face with her eyes, followed them along her cheeks, to her lips. Sarah pressed her lips together as she attempted to clear every single thought from her mind, and when that didn’t work, she returned to her coffee, trying not to wince because it was still just a little too hot.  

“I’m so glad that we met, Sarah Jane.” Jo was staring at her. Sarah couldn’t decide if she was inventing the look she thought she saw in Jo’s eyes. One that was trying to tell her that Jo had been thinking and feeling the same things she had.

“Me too,” Sarah said, her body leaning forward over the table without her permission. “Why are you really here, Jo?”

“I wanted to see you. That was the truth.” A stray piece of hair had fallen loose from Jo’s messy ponytail, dangling down in front of her eyes. Unable to resist, Sarah reached over to push it back behind her ear, letting her hand linger on Jo’s face, tracing down her cheekbone.

Then Jo grabbed the lapels of Sarah’s dressing gown to pull her over the table to kiss her.

The surprises were coming in abundance tonight, and not one of them was unwelcome. Sarah, if she had been capable of thinking in that moment, would have wished for it to never end.

Eventually, Jo released her, grinning. “I’ve been thinking about doing that since we said goodbye the last time.”

“Since the coffin?”

“Since the coffin,” Jo’s voice distorted as she tried not to laugh. “Have we been having the same dream?”

“I certainly am not going to comment on that.” Though Sarah’s tone suggested indignance, the fact that her smile reached all the way up to her eyes and lit up her whole face betrayed the fact that the answer was yes. She just hoped it wasn’t betraying the fact that she’d been having the dream in question less than an hour ago.

Then again, that probably didn’t matter any more. If they had both been dreaming about each other, what was there to hide? And then it caught up with her – Jo had wanted her too, all this time! she laughed at the thought. Jo smiled quizzically. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Honestly, nothing. It’s just the insanity of the situation. It’s nearly going on for five in the morning, and the woman who has been haunting my dreams has turned up out of the blue and snogged me. I think I’m allowed to be a bit startled.”

“Well,” said Jo, and cocked her eyebrow in such a way that the double meaning in her words was unmistakable, “If you’re tired, we could always go back to bed.”

Something in Sarah’s brain short-circuited at the implication. Not that that was a complaint, not in the slightest. She would never get used to the surprises the universe kept springing on her. And if they kept being this good, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.